


Jumpstart

by Aleique



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Harry Potter, Espionage, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, LGBTQ Character, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Time Travel, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), emphasis on the slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleique/pseuds/Aleique
Summary: With the war over, Hermione returns to Hogwarts to finish her education. When she is resorted into Slytherin, however, she quickly finds out that the sorting hat has vaulted her back in time to 1970 - as Lily Evan’s 11 year old adopted sister. It’s clear that she’s here for a reason, but no one has a clue why.Currently making minor edits and remembering what I wrote, will begin updates again later in August.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers! 
> 
> I'm anticipating this fic to be relatively long - roughly around 300k words or so but that estimate has zero confidence to it. I'm going to aim for updating every Saturday, but I'm a college student, so sometimes life may get in the way of that, but I already have 10K words written. The first ~5 chapters are very slow, so I encourage you to stick it out past that a bit.
> 
> We won't get there for a while, but eventually this fic will get pretty dark. When it does, I will update the tags on this, but it felt silly to tag all of those when I don't even have them written yet, just outlined in my head. 
> 
> The pairings listed are the three big ones I have in my head, possibly to be updated with time. That said, I'm not a huge pairings-focused person, and I'm also not at all romantic, so...we'll see. 
> 
> Enjoy! Constructive feedback always welcome!
> 
> Update: I had to put this fic on hiatus for several months due to school/depression/surgery, but I'm planning to come back to it now. I'll be going through and doing some minor edits to start with, before starting to work seriously on new chapters.

The war was over. That much, at least, was clear. It left in its wake a veritable maelstrom of lives cut short, plans left to ruin, and a country that was just barely starting to pick up the pieces.

Hermione had spent the first half of her summer in Australia, searching for her parents. It took the better part of a month trying to find them, and the rest of the month to realise that her memory charm was essentially irreversible. Any attempt to repair their memories would carry with it a very large chance at leaving them with limited cognitive function and permanent personality changes.

She spent the week after that intermittently crying at the home she had grown up in. That was the only time she allowed herself to grieve them - at least they were alive, even if they did not have the faintest clue that they had a daughter. 

Following that, she brusquely packed up the important things her family had accumulated over the years. She took special care to make sure she had the baby picture of her held in her mother’s arms, where Hermione could not have been more than a couple months old, although it was already clear that she had inherited her father’s riotous curls. She shrunk the piano she had spent a childhood learning to play, bubble wrapped it, and put in the beaded bag which had somehow survived the war. A couple more items followed it, and then she went about contacting an estate sale company and a real estate agent to sell the house and everything in it. The plan was to sell it as soon as she went off to school, so she did not have to worry about finding a place to live until after graduation.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ginny spent the summer making Grimmauld Place habitable. Ron occasionally stopped by, but after the third time, he was much more careful to give advance notice before flooing in. Harry and Ginny had picked up their relationship right where they left off, and everyone in the vicinity was frequently treated to overzealous displays of affection.

Hermione and Ron, on the other hand, had not gone anywhere. After the heated kiss in the Chamber of Secrets, they promptly never spoke of their romantic feelings again. The spark had fizzled. They had stayed good friends - awkward at first, but quickly settling into old patterns. Hermione was certain that it would not be long before she was nagging him about staying on top of his assignments as an Auror-in-training.

The Ministry of Magic had offered all three of them the chance to become aurors, sans NEWTs. It only took three days following the offer for Harry and Ron to jump at the chance. Hermione, though...was pretty sure she did not want to be an auror. She already had enough fighting to last a lifetime, thank you very much. Instead, she decided she wanted to pursue a mastery in something, although she had yet to decide in what discipline. Which meant returning to Hogwarts.

While she would never admit it to anyone else, she was not terribly excited about returning to the school. Yes, she had a reputation as being a bit of a swot. Everyone else was expecting her to go back and be her usual overachieving self, but she decided that this year, she would spend her free time in places than the library. Well, at least _some_ of her free time.

Having decided this, she spent the second half of her summer trying out a number of new hobbies. She briefly took up cooking, with limited success, but after she burned the third dish in a week, she gave that up as a lost cause. She started taking lessons in ballroom dancing, and became reasonably proficient at the waltz and foxtrot. Towards the end, she started going for daily runs, which she found helped with her anxiety and insomnia, although she still was not sure she actually _liked_ running. 

Unfortunately, she had done a lousy job of staying in touch with her friends other than Harry and Ron. Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Parvati had all sent her letters over the holiday, recounting various efforts. Hermione had seen Ginny in person, but had ignored the rest of the letters - not because she did not care, but because they all talk about the War, which was not something she feels inclined to do. 

The Friday before school started, an article appeared in the daily prophet.

 

**Hogwarts Resorting - Undoing Centuries of History?**

by Cassandra Clearwater

 _Earlier this week I had the distinct pleasure of speaking with soon-to-be Headmistress McGonagall, who has been the head transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts since 1956, Head of Gryffindor House since 1969, and Deputy Headmistress since 1975._  

 _She revealed a number of plans that are in the works for Hogwarts this year, but most scandalous is the plan to resort every student. She explained this shocking decision, “Headmaster Dumbledore always said that he thought we sorted too soon. The war has had a profound effect on everyone in this castle, and with that comes changes in personalities and values. Considering the harsh effect house affiliation had on battle lines, the faculty have decided that it is in the best interest of students to give everyone a fresh start in new houses and with new housemates.”_  

 _Never before has a schoolwide resorting occurred, although in 1888 the Black family lobbied for and successfully obtained permission to resort Sirius Black II from Hufflepuff into Slytherin. Such is the only case of resorting ever occurring in the millenium that Hogwarts and the sorting system has been in place._  

_Headmistress McGonagall declined to say anything else on the matter, but said other changes at Hogwarts include multiple new staff hires, the addition of a Healing course and an Alchemy course, and of course, having a double class of first years._

 

After having left detailed plans with her attorney, real estate agent, and estate sale agent regarding the sale of her childhood home, Hermione packed up her (expanded) trunk. She was filled with a sort of empty sadness at leaving the house which was once her sanctuary, but there were too many memories for her to be comfortable staying there for overly long. It was with this resigned spirit that she disapparated to Kings Cross Station at ten a.m. on Tuesday, September 1st, 1998.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	2. School Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s the first real chapter! I got impatient and am posting this a day early. On that note, the posting date may vary - I'm in Pacific Time, so Ao3 is way ahead of me. I'll usually post on my Saturday, which will often be Ao3 Sunday.
> 
> Chapters will usually be around 2k words ish (so far the ones I have written range from 1800-2600). I’m glad that people seem to have liked the prologue!

The muggle side of Kings Cross Station seemed to be much the same as it was two years ago when Hermione had last been there with her parents. Hermione, however felt much heavier than she had on previous occasions. The weight of the war had settled firmly on her shoulders, and even though the war was over, had stayed there. Shaking her head, she dismissed her inner musings and pushed toward Platform 9 ¾.

Having gotten there early, the station was not quite as busy as it usually was. The Wizarding World felt...subdued. While there had been raucous parties immediately following the war, soon people were hit with the impact of the lives lost and all that had been destroyed. As she gazed around the platform, she accidentally made eye contact with Draco Malfoy. They both quickly looked in different directions.

Harry had testified at his and Narcissa’s trials. Part of Draco’s parole was finishing his Hogwarts career. Narcissa had gotten a year of house arrest. Lucius was in Azkaban serving a life sentence - Harry’s good hearted nature didn’t go quite that far.

Taking one last look at the families huddled closely together as they said goodbye, Hermione was hit with the sharp pain of realization that she had no family to see her off. Brushing away the emotion, she boarded the train and quickly found a compartment to herself.  
Hermione was on her own in the compartment right up until 10:47, when the door suddenly slammed open, revealing Ginny.

“Hermione!” She squealed, in a fashion similar to what Hermione had come to expect from Ginny. “Oh! I haven’t seen you all summer - not since you stopped by the Burrow in July - how have you been? Whatever happened with you and Ron? And you haven’t answered _any_ of my letters.” She paused to take a breath and looked about ready to continue to bombard Hermione with questions, but Hermione quickly interjected.

“I’ve been about as well as could be expected, I suppose,” Hermione started in a considerably more subdued tone. “I went to Australia for a while. As for Ron and me, nothing has really happened. We haven’t talked about the kiss, but I’m quite certain nothing more is going to happen. The spark just isn’t there anymore.” Here, she let out a sigh before continuing, “I’m sorry about not answering your letters...I haven’t really been answering anyone’s, other than sometimes Harry and Ron’s. It just felt like it took energy that I didn’t have, especially talking about the war. But, enough about that. How was your summer?”

Hermione knew from past experience that Ginny could keep up a barrage of questions whenever romance came up, even if it pertained to one of her own brothers. The best strategy was to turn the conversation back to her.

Ginny launched into a tirade about Grimmauld Place, and her budding relationship with Harry. Soon thereafter, the two girls were joined by Neville and Luna, and thus began the train ride to Hogwarts.

Luna gave her a warm, enveloping hug in greeting. “Happy Tuesday, Hermione. When you didn’t respond to my letters, I was worried you had been attacked by the Wrackspurts.”

“No Wrackspurts, at least none that I know of.” Not that Hermione actually knew what a Wrackspurt was, but it was immaterial. “I am sorry for not replying, though.” In response, Luna gave her a warm smile and told her not to worry about it.

Hermione quickly tuned the other three out and picked up the alchemy textbook, which was a new elective class for sixth and seventh year students. Supposedly it used to be offered at Hogwarts, but had been removed from the curriculum in the eighties.

At some point, the conversation moved towards talk of the resorting that was reportedly happening among all years in the school. Hermione was jolted back into the conversation by Ginny, who loudly exclaimed that the three of them (excluding Luna) were all Gryffindors and wouldn’t be changing houses.

“I don’t care, particularly,” said Hermione casually, “I’d be happy in any house I think. Except maybe Slytherin - although I think the only person from my year coming back is Malfoy, so maybe at least it won’t be full of prejudiced pure-bloods.”

Luna interjected, “I’ve always said you would do well in Ravenclaw, Hermione. We’d be happy to have you. I myself would kind of like to be resorted into Gryffindor. Ravenclaw Tower was especially infested with Nargles last year, and I’ve made a good deal of friends in Gryffindor.”

Neville had been notably silent throughout the conversation, but when Ginny looked at him challengingly, he chimed in, “I want Gryffindor. It’s been my home for seven years, after all. And I finally feel like it’s a house I’m worthy of.”

“You’ve always been worthy of Gryffindor - it just wasn’t obvious to you. But quite frankly I don’t like the sorting. I think it holds us back from reaching our full potential. Which is why, I think, they’re doing the resorting this year.” Hermione had been thinking about this a lot, but here was the first time she had voiced it - maybe the war would have gone differently if the houses were more unified. “Take Professor Snape, for instance. He was so adamantly against Gryffindors, and it was because he was bullied by them endlessly in school. Maybe if not for that animosity, he wouldn’t have joined the Death Eaters...and then the entire war would’ve been different, although maybe not for the better. I’m quite positive that’s not the only example.”

This proved to be an abrupt mood killer and a brief period of silence followed. “Snape might not have been as awful as we all thought he was, but he’s _not_ the hero Harry tries to make him out to be. I’m not sure he would’ve been a better person even if he’d had better chances, and maybe he would’ve been even worse. There’s no way of knowing,” Ginny grumbled to nods of agreement from Luna and Neville. To be fair, they had all dealt with him as Headmaster that last year. Not that Horcrux hunting was exactly a better alternative, but she had had a different experiences from the others in the compartment.

Ginny, Luna, and Neville started talking about what school was like last year, and while Hermione knew it was important, it was not a topic she could participate in very well. Not to mention, it was grim subject matter, so she soon returned to her textbook. It did not seem like very long at all had passed before the voice message rang out to the train that they would be arriving at the station shortly, so Hermione packed her book into her trunk.

By unspoken consensus, the quartet all ended up in one carriage. It was Hermione’s first time seeing the thestrals, for all that she had ridden on them, and clearly she was not the only one - murmurs went through the crowd of students with a depressed tone. The carriage ride was mercifully short and silent. When she saw the castle for the first time though, she was not sure what to think, nor was she sure what she had been expecting. Hogwarts had been almost entirely rebuilt, although the Astronomy tower was structured differently, and some of the outer walls had obvious and slightly mismatched repair work. Many students, teachers, and community members had spent the summer working to repair it.

When they got to the castle, into the Great Hall, it was to find that the great long tables had been disbanded. Instead, small round tables were scattered throughout, each with eight seats. The four of them chose a table off to the side, and were joined by Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Anthony Goldstein, and a Ravenclaw girl in the same year as Luna who introduced herself as Olivia.

Minerva McGonagall was now Headmistress, with Professor Flitwick as Deputy Headmaster. The Headmistress stood up to address the students, her bearing and voice tired.

“It is my pleasure to welcome you all back to Hogwarts. The past year has been trying for all of us, and The Wizarding World has a lot of healing to do. It is my hope that Hogwarts as a community will heal together. As I’m sure most of you have heard, Hogwarts will be conducting a resorting for all students, regardless of age. The incoming class of first years will be sorted tonight, and the rest of you will be sorted tomorrow individually according to year. These times will be posted on the entrance doors at the conclusion of the feast. Until resorting concludes tomorrow afternoon, you will be eating without regard to house, and tonight, everyone will sleep in the Great Hall. Without further ado, the sorting will commence.”

The Sorting Hat was brought out on its usual stool, thankfully looking none the worse for wear after being set on fire in the Final Battle.

 

_Through the ages there has been much mystery,_

_Regarding my long and ancient history._

_Don’t think you are so smart_

_Such that I will miss your heart._

 

_Fate has oft been dictated,_

_But frequently revealed too late._

_Tonight I invite you on this path,_

_Lest we invite Time’s Wrath._

 

_If you belong in Gryffindor,_

_The house of gold and bold,_

_It may soon become clear the talent_

_You have for being gallant._

 

_Some will go in Hufflepuff,_

_The house where hard work will be enough,_

_Never forget your capability_

_For long lasting civility._

 

_Ravenclaw is full of blue,_

_Full of those who thought they knew._

_Remember that those books_

_Are more than just their looks._

 

_Slytherin is for ambition,_

_Although recently there has been much fission._

_In each of you endures,_

_Hope’s greatest cures._

 

_So put me in position,_

_To see your greatest vision._

_I have a knack_

_For having your back._

 

The students clapped, some slightly hesitant, and the new first years were called up, starting with “Boot, Amelia!” who went into Hufflepuff.

Hermione’s overall impression of the sorting was not overly changed from past years, although she thought perhaps there was a higher percentage of students going into Slytherin than usual. Historically, Slytherin had been the smallest house in recent years. Once the sorting was concluded, McGonagall stood to introduce the new professors.

“We have a number of new teachers joining us this year. Professor Slughorn has gone back to retirement and will be replaced by Professor Buckley as Potions Professor, while Professor Sinistra will be taking over as Head of Slytherin House. Professor Jones, a former Auror, will be starting as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and Professor Brown will be our Muggle Studies teacher. And lastly, Professor MacDougal will be taking over my old post as Transfiguration teacher. Since tomorrow will be the resorting for most of you, classes will not start until the day after tomorrow, with your timetables handed out the morning of.” Here, the Headmistress put on a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before adding with finality, “Enjoy the feast.”

Dinner appeared on all the tables, the usual rich and delicious food, but Hermione did not have much of an appetite. She had lost weight through the war, she knew - weight that her already slim frame could not afford to lose. Is was quite likely that she was starting to look like she had an eating disorder, but really, she just rarely felt hungry. She managed a dinner roll and a bowl of soup and considered that a valiant enough effort for the night.

She had a hard time staying fully aware of her surroundings - she was tired, and stressed, and she thought she had been having some problems with what her parents’ psychology textbooks referred to as dissociating. Not for the first time, Hermione wished that the Wizarding World had therapists. But dinner was finally over so she went to look at the entrance doors for her sorting time tomorrow. She and Neville were at 4:10 and 4:25, respectively, with Ginny and Luna both being approximately an hour before that. The sorting was taking place in the room off the Great Hall, the same one Harry had gone to for the introduction to the Triwizard Tournament.

The tables in the Great Hall vanished and were replaced with their trunks, so Hermione conjured up a privacy curtain, changed into pyjamas, and curled up in the sleeping bags that had been helpfully provided, although they were not half as comfortable as the beds up in Gryffindor tower. Her last step was to cast a silencing spell around her sleeping bag, because nightmares had become a daily occurence. Tomorrow was already shaping up to be a stressful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the terrible Sorting Hat song; I am not a poet but I wanted to try my hand at one for probably the first and last time.
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	3. Cryptic Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked on this chapter a lot and I’m still not entirely satisfied with it, but...here goes. This is the longest chapter I have outlined so far at over 2,700 words, and the story starts to pick up here (or after here, perhaps). I continuously have to restrain myself from writing every single little detail, so that might end up with the story feeling sparse at some points? I’m not sure. But if I wrote everything I wanted to write, I’d never ever finish this, so… This is going to be a very slow build as is.  
> I also made some very minor edits to the prologue.  
> Enjoy!

The next morning, Hermione woke abruptly, pulled from sleep breathing hard like she had just run a marathon. Thankfully, she did not think she had audibly screamed as she sometimes did. Her nightmare had been a variation on the one she had most often - Malfoy Manor, with Bellatrix and Fenrir Greyback. They both featured prominently in her nightmares, along with other aspects of the war. Frequently she dreamt of Sirius flying through the veil. Another common one was breaking out of Gringotts on a dragon’s back - she had never liked flying to start with, and that experience certainly had not helped. Sometimes she even had nightmares that were about perfectly ordinary things, as though her brain had forgotten how to have _good_ dreams and insisted on making the normal things terrifying.

She was not ashamed of her nightmares, not really. She had lived through a war, she had been tortured. There had been enough Muggle psychology books in her house that she vaguely knew what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was, and she was pretty certain she, along with most of Britain’s wizarding community, had it to varying degrees. Now that she was back at Hogwarts though, with a functional potions lab, she had plans to make herself some Dreamless Sleep. Not for every night, because it was a highly addictive substance, but just to give herself a break sometimes. She made a mental note to ask the new potions professor, whose name she could not quite remember, about having some lab time.

Sleeping in the Great Hall was fantastically unideal, and she was grateful it would just be for the one night. As she looked around her she saw various students creeping around, trying to get ready without waking the rest of them up. One particularly clumsy fifth year knocked over his trunk, which resounded across the room with a dull _thud._ A _Tempus_ spell revealed that it was just before 7:30, and breakfast usually started at eight, so everyone would be up sooner or later anyway. Resorting started at nine, with the first years to go first and then each year having been allotted an hour. She was not sure whether that would be enough time. _Usually the majority of students are sorted incredibly quickly, but since we’re older, and presumably more complex people, maybe it will take longer?_ She supposed they would know by the end of the day. After all, this was the first such circumstance of this happening. Although a Hatstall was defined as anyone taking longer than five minutes, they were incredibly rare - in fact, it was most common for a sorting to take around fifteen seconds. Even just going longer than a minute was deemed somewhat noteworthy.

In regards to the academic curriculum, the teachers were in essence pretending that last year hadn’t happened. This meant that everyone would be repeating last year, although students in Hermione’s year had been given the chance to sit their NEWTs independently at the end of the year, following self-study. There was a double class of first years, but other than that the classes were the same. A number of those repeating first year had chosen not to return, however - last year was so traumatic, and with nothing good to compare it, parents had chosen to send their children to schools abroad or homeschool them.

The tables reappeared at ten ‘til, and food promptly arrived at eight, although some students were still groggily waking up. In the back of her mind, Hermione made a note to research the magic that made it so that none of the tables materialized on top of still-sleeping students. Luckily, Hermione had more luck with breakfast than she had with the dinner the night before, almost managing a normal sized meal. It helped that breakfast had always been her favourite meal of the day.

Afterwards, she caught up with the Headmistress as McGonagall left the hall. “Headmistress,” Hermione began, “I wanted to talk to you about an idea I had. I was thinking maybe we could get some Mind-Healers on campus to run support groups. Muggles do this kind of thing, with therapists, to support people when they’ve undergone trauma.”

McGonagall looked approvingly at her. “I’ve been working on getting a plan in place for recovery, and that’s an excellent idea. You know where the Head’s office is, Miss Granger? I’ll meet you there in approximately fifteen minutes to continue this conversation - I need to catch Professor Buckley first. The password is Russian Blue,” she said, naming a particular kind of cat breed.

Hermione nodded and set off towards the third floor. The Gargoyle stepped aside when she gave the password, and her heart briefly stopped in her throat when she saw the office. She had not been up here since Dumbledore died, and some part of her had still been expecting the office to have been decked in all its accoutrements and garishly bright colours. McGonagall’s taste was considerably more subdued. The room was mahogany coloured and accented in plaid - a bright red tartan with accents of blue, purple, and green. Aside from the pile of paperwork on the stately desk, the room was neatly organised. The long procession of portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses decorated the entirety of the tower walls.

If Hermione had thought that she was unprepared to see the change in office decoration, she was triply unprepared to see the portraits of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. Dumbledore appeared to be sleeping, but Snape was looking directly at her with pursed lips and a stern expression. Hermione stumbled over her words, “Professor - Headmaster - Snape. Er. It’s good to see you again, in a manner of sorts.”

She received a sardonically raised eyebrow, which was probably the least she deserved for that tactful greeting. “Indeed, Miss Granger. I have no interest in having a prolonged conversation with you, rest assured. However, it has come to my attention that you will be needing some advice very shortly, and apparently I have to be the one to give it to you. The advice is as follows: Look forward, not back. And secondly, choose your friends very wisely, for we all are more than we initially appear. If you follow those, perhaps this won’t be a total waste of magical effort.” Hermione was initially taken aback, and was just about to demand answers when his portrait turned around and walked out of the frame, evidently having decided to ignore her questions.

Well. If that was not curious, and rather ominous, she did not know what was. The War was over, and such dramatic foretellings should have been done as well. She had had about enough of prophecies, and while this certainly was not a prophecy, it was most definitely too close to divination for comfort. Before she could muse on it further, McGonagall was there, greeting her kindly.

“Now, Miss Granger, as I mentioned earlier, I have been looking into getting some form of support for the students here. We have all undergone a traumatic experience and some help healing would not be amiss. Unfortunately, the wizarding world doesn’t have the equivalent of these Muggle therapists, as you call them. We have Mind-Healers, but those are more commonly used for neurologic injuries than therapy. I have, however, found a Squib who lives as a Muggle and is, in fact, a therapist. His specialty isn’t trauma, but I have spoken to him, and he is willing to work in combination with the Mind-Healers to get some sort of program running. I believe the current idea is for them to be here once a week, probably on Fridays, and have both support groups and limited time for individual therapy. Unfortunately, resources are limited, so it won’t be able to be more than that. Did you have any suggestions as to the program?”  
  
Hermione worried at her lower lip as she thought. That certainly was not perfect, and probably was not adequate, but it was admittedly more than she had expected. She had given this a lot of thought, and had debated trying to see a therapist, but it was not exactly easily accessible. “I did, actually. I was thinking you might talk to Luna Lovegood or perhaps some other students about forming an artistic therapy group with the goal of using creativity to help process. I did some poetry writing over the summer, and there were a couple times when it was actually quite helpful. And Luna may be odd, but she’s got a very soothing presence.”

McGonagall nodded. “I shall take that under consideration. People often underestimate Miss Lovegood.” Her gaze softened. “And how have you been doing, Miss Granger? Last I spoke to you, you were planning on going to Australia to visit your parents.”

That was definitely a cheerful topic. “I did go to Australia. It didn’t go well - the memory charm I used isn’t easily reversible, and any attempt to reverse it could very well end in brain damage. I spoke to a couple Mind-Healers in Australia about it and they said the same thing. So...I guess you could say I’m kind of an orphan, now.”  
  
“Nonsense. You might no longer have your biological family, but I won’t believe for a second that you don’t have family of any kind. I know the Weasleys think of you as a second daughter, and you’ve got a number of very good friends here, including myself. Don’t hesitate to come to my office should you need anything.”

Hermione glanced at her gratefully. She knew, logically, that family could be much larger than biological family, but that didn’t mean it always felt that way. But yes, maybe she could make a new chosen family for herself that was more than the people she was related to by blood. Internally, she nodded firmly to herself. Yes, she would work on that framework of thinking. She was not an orphan, she just had a different family than she used to. “Thank you, Headmistress. I think I needed someone to point that out to me. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

Professor McGonagall inclined her head, wisdom in her eyes. “I’ll be seeing you around then, Miss Granger.”

With one last warm smile directed towards her favourite instructor, Hermione turned and headed back down the stairs. It was only 9:30, and so she still had most of the day before her resorting, although with classes not having started yet there were only so many things she could do. She had done all of the summer reading for her classes already, although she still was not clear on many of the concepts in the Alchemy textbook. Ignoring her resolution to not spend all her time in the library, Hermione’s feet took her there as though on auto-pilot, and she soon found herself in the Alchemy section, although it was a relatively small section. With a certain sense of fondness, she picked out one of the books that discussed the search for the Philosopher’s Stone, including parts of it written by Nicholas Flamel. She planned on settling down with it until lunchtime at noon.

When she ended up in the Great Hall for lunch, it was at one of those obnoxious round tables next to Parvati Patil, her old roommate. Hermione supposed it was entirely possible that they would be roommates again, should they both end up back in Gryffindor. Parvati and Padma had gone back to India for the summer, as their parents had decided that with the war ending, it was a good time to reconnect with family. Parvati raved on and on about _Dharmika_ , which was an Indian equivalent of Diagon Alley located in the city of Kolkata. Hermione, in turn, talked briefly about Australia - the happy parts, such as going to the beach, while leaving out the bits about her parents. Around the tables she caught murmurings about the younger years who had already been resorted - so-and-so got placed in a different house, but one person’s best friend was still in the same house, and so on.

After lunch, Hermione was starting to panic about the resorting, which naturally meant it was time to go back to the library. She had three hours to research it, which wasn’t half as much as she woud like, but she would have to make do. She started with one of the older editions of _Hogwarts: A History_ , looking for information on the Sorting Hat.

_Formerly belonging to Godric Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat has been a staple of Hogwarts since the school’s founding. Scholars have theorised that it was not Gryffindor who created the item; rather, the Sorting Hat predates any form of modern history and Gryffindor merely repurposed it. Others hypothesis that the Sorting Hat is a leftover bit of magic from the Celtic Druids, or even Merlin.The full powers of the artifact are unknown, but it sorts students through Legilimency. Based on this, it is possible that a powerful Occlumens could fool the Sorting Hat, but given that it only ever sorts eleven year olds, this theory is mere conjecture. Through conversations with various students, this author has observed that the hat often does take students’ preferences into account, although not always, and it will not put a student into a house if it does not feel it belongs there._

That did not tell her much that she had not already known, although perhaps if she had had more warning she could have learned a but of Occlumency. It was immaterial now, though. She wouldd be equally happy with either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. When she was first sorted, she had asked the hat for Ravenclaw, but it had insisted she would do better in Gryffindor. And perhaps she had - it was entirely possible she would not have survived the war if not for the skills she had picked up by being a Gryffindor who was also Harry Potter’s best friend.

Hermione decided it was a nice time for a nap. She located an abandoned classroom and transfigured a chair into an (uncomfortable) mattress. Although she usually got a sufficient quantity of sleep, the quality is woefully lacking, so she was frequently tired and naps were a welcome respite from the torrent of anxiety in her brain. She cast an  _Horolos,_ which was in order to set an alarm for 3:45 - enough time to freshen up before her appointed resorting time.

Her sleep was blissfully dreamless. That was the nice thing about naps - when she only slept for an hour or two at a time, her brain did not go deep enough into sleep for her to remember her dreams. Physiologically, she knew that meant she wasn’t getting R.E.M sleep, which was a problem, but the lack of nightmares was worth the trade.

She got to the room for her resorting right as Caitlyn Garcia was leaving. Professor Flitwick stood in the room with the Sorting Hat on top of a chair. “Ah, Miss Granger! Excellent, right on time - go ahead, put the hat on.”

_You know, I think you could do quite nicely in any of the houses, Miss Granger. There’s no doubt that you’re a Gryffindor, but you have quite the balanced personality. Studious, with a thirst for knowledge...I still think you’d do well in Ravenclaw, but I don’t think that’s what you need for your personal growth at this point. You’re quite hard working, and there’s no doubt about your loyalty. Hufflepuff would be a good choice for healing and forming new friendships, now that your two closest friends aren’t here. Friends haven’t always come easy to you, now have they? And Slytherin...I don’t usually put Muggleborns in the Snake Pit, but I’ve been changing how I do my job a bit this year, things being what they are. You’ve got the ambition for it, and you can be ruthless when you need to be..._

_Not Slytherin,_ Hermione thought, _Harry and Ron might disown me, if the Pure-Bloods don’t eat me alive first._

_So you let your future be determined by your friends, and what they may or may not say?_ The Hat didn’t sound very approving.

_That isn’t what I meant. I just don’t feel well suited to it._

_Hmm. I see what they meant when they gave me the warning about you._

Hermione started. _They? They who?_

_Oh, nevermind that. There have just been some...developments, you might say. We’d best not be late._

“SLYTHERIN!” The Hat boomed, and Hermione felt like she might faint, not just from the surprise of the matter, but her head all of a sudden felt _full_ and _stuffy_ and the room was spinning. There were stars in her vision and the last thing she saw was the Sorting Hat with a worried, almost maternal expression on its face, which she had not realised was an expression material objects could make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry for the cliffhanger.  
> For anyone curious, Dharmika comes from the Sanskrit word for “sorcerer” - at least according to the Internet. I have zero knowledge of the language, so apologies if I mangled anything important.
> 
> The tartan described as being in McGonagall's office is the Ross family tartan, for anyone wanting a visual. In canon according to hpwiki, Isobel Ross was Minerva's mother, ergo...family tartan.
> 
> As I’ve gotten further along in plot development, I’ve come up with some ideas for plot expansion. I always love stories which delve deeper into aspects of magic/wizarding culture, so there will be some focus on that. In particular, expect some detail on astronomy and Celtic/Norse Paganism, if I can get around to doing the research on those.
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	4. A Very Confusing Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's worth noting that time travel is my biggest trope in Harry Potter, which is why this story exists. I've tried to give it a unique spin, but I'm sure there will still at times be a number of similarities to other story premises.

“Jean! Jean, wake up!” was the first thing Hermione heard as she started to regain consciousness. The last thing she remembered was...the Sorting Hat. Slytherin. Right. And what was with whoever-this-is calling her Jean? She went by Jean in elementary school, because half the kids had been unable to say ‘Hermione’ but everyone at Hogwarts knew her as Hermione. As her mind started to get its bearings, a finger aggressively poked her in the shoulder. She decided it was time to open her eyes and immediately regretted that decision.

Right next to her was a young, preteen redhead. Her eyes were bright green - Harry’s eyes, but a touch lighter. For a split second, she was reminded of Lily Potter, and then without her conscious awareness, her brain started filling in gaps for her, because this _was_ Lily Evans, one of her adopted sisters.  
Wait. What?

Hermione tried to dial her memory back to where that thought came from. _Did I hit my head when I passed out?_ She wondered. She must have. Or maybe, somehow, she had died and Lily Potter was there to greet her in the Afterlife. There was no other logical explanation for why she would think this was a child Lily Evans.

Even as her brain struggled to process this, her lips opened, as though she were a puppet. “Morning, Lily.”

Excitement was in every inch of Lily’s bearing. “Happy 11th Birthday, Jean!”

Hermione was suddenly quite certain that this morning is going to be full of surprises. _Eleven?_ She pinched herself hard on the thigh, in case she was actually dreaming. Scratch the theory of having hit her head, because it seemed the most logical explanation was that somehow, she has traveled back in time. To the Seventies, apparently, and as an eleven year-old. She did her best to wrangle a grin onto her face in response, but internally, she was having a mild panic attack.

Lily continued, not noticing anything amiss. “You slept in. I spend like five minutes trying to wake you up. It’s nine in the morning, and your party is at noon. Mum wants the three of us to help with the last minute cleaning up.”

Right. So she was 11, and she was about to have a birthday party full of people she probably did not know. In three hours. Her brain had been steadily providing an influx of relevant memories, however, as though trying to catch her up to what this life was. Today was September 19th, 1970. Her name was Hermione Jean Evans, and she was adopted by Robert and Catherine Evans as an infant. Lily and Petunia were her adopted sisters, and they had known each other practically their entire lives. She usually went by Jean, but this random cache of information did not extend quite that far. Today, she was celebrating her birthday with a small group of friends from primary school, where she was in Year Six.

“Sorry. Let Mum know I’m getting up, I need to take a shower first.”

“Sure,” Lily replied, “Do you want Mum to make french toast? I know that’s your favourite, and she said since it’s your birthday, you get to choose.”

“Yeah, french toast is fine.” At this point Hermione had resigned herself to her fate, at least for the time being.

The redhead’s face suddenly took a somber turn, and her speech becomes awkward. “And, um, Severus said that if you don’t get a letter today delivered by one of the teachers that...you know. It will mean you’re not going to Hogwarts. Because they usually come on your 11th birthday, apparently. He wanted me to break the news to you.”

Harry had told her and Ron briefly about the memories that Professor Snape had put in the pensieve. Something about him and Lily Potter having been childhood friends, but Harry hadn’t wanted to go into a lot of detail. Hermione had assumed that they were friends at Hogwarts, but apparently Severus was a...family friend? Her brain told her that yes, Lily and Severus were fast friends, and Petunia and Severus were forever at each others’ metaphorical throats. Severus and herself were...somewhere in between those two. Not enemies, but not exactly friends - they were friend _ly_ with one another, but if it were not for his friendship with Lily, Hermione and Severus would not ever talk of their own volitions.

Hermione was not worried about not getting a Hogwarts letter. She was a witch, through and through, and she was quite confident that would not have changed despite the fact that she had gone back thirty years in time. Minor detail. The first time around, Professor McGonagall had arrived to her parents’ house on her birthday right after dinner, and presumably, something similar would happen today.

There was not a way to explain that to Lily, however, so she did not try. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine either way, truly.” She remembered that in this timeline, she had not performed any accidental magic around her sisters. Lily had an unusual amount of control over her magic for someone so young, and could at times use it on command. Hermione had no such luck in either timeline, so she was pretty sure that Lily and Severus thought she was a Muggle and were trying to let her down gently.

When she went to the bathroom to get ready, she got quite the jump when she saw herself in the mirror. She looked exactly like she did when she was 11 - pale skin, uncontrollable dark hair, the too-big buck teeth - but equally surprising when she gets undressed was the lack of scars. Her two biggest scars - from Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries, and more recently from Bellatrix - were gone. More than that, though, she just didn’t have all the little nicks she had accumulated from a wide variety of adventures. She had almost forgotten how she looked without them.

After that disconcerting experience and finishing her shower, she wandered downstairs to the dining table, where breakfast is laid out. Their Dad, Robert, greeted her with a hug while Mum - Catherine - hollered up the stairs for Petunia to come down. Petunia greeted Hermione civilly, “Happy birthday, Jean. Morning, Mum and Dad.” Lily, who is already at the table, gets summarily ignored and Hermione can tell by the expression on her face that this was an expected, if unpleasant, outcome.

“Thanks, Tuney,” Hermione replied, using her sister’s nickname. As they sat down at the table, an idea occurred to her. “I’ve been wanting to ask. Now that I’m 11, I’d like to start going by my first name again.” She was not really certain why she started going by Jean in the first place; whatever magic was putting memories in her brain seemed to have a number of limitations.

Catherine looked overjoyed. “Oh! It’s about time. You know your Dad and I have never liked you going by Jean - it’s so common.” Hermione was pretty sure that it was not actually that common, but compared to Lily and Petunia, she supposed it was. That did not answer any questions about why she preferred Jean in the first place, though, so she supposed she would have to go on without knowing.

The next three hours went by in a flurry of cleaning, as the Evans family seemed to have the same tendency towards generalised untidiness that the Grangers did. In addition to the three Evans daughters, there is Severus, and three of her Muggle friends: David, Carol, and Susan. Hermione gathered that she and Lily have basically identical friend groups, what with being so close in age and the same year in school. There was also a sixth friend, Phillip, who could not make it because his family was taking a weekend trip to London. 

As the party got started, Hermione was questioning her choices in friends. David in particular bragged far too frequently: he’s the best player on his football team, and he got a 97% on their last quiz, and his parents recently got him _the coolest_ pair of shoes. It was exhausting. Inwardly, she found them all very self centered, and then she remembers that they’re 10 and 11 year olds, who by their very nature are egotistic. She sighed. Going through puberty was bad enough the first time, but now she was mentally eight years older than all her friends.

She discovered that means she and Severus actually got along quite well. For all that he is ten, he has been forced to grow up much too quickly, from what she can remember and conclude about his home life.

Her gifts for the most part seemed uninspired and bromidic. Petunia got her some makeup, which she supposed might be worth learning this time around. The one highlight of the gifts is from her adopted parents: an adult male ginger tabby whom she immediately named Pyrrhus. He reminded her of Crookshanks, but at first glance seemed to be much better tempered. There were also several books. The books were all fiction, which was somewhat of a shame considering she much preferred the practicality of nonfiction books, but in her mind, all books were good books.

By the time everyone left three hours later, she was exhausted. She felt as though she was pretending to be someone she was not, and she was not entirely certain whom she was supposed to be pretending to be in the first place. Her consciousness often supplied relevant information about her past, but there were large gaps, as though someone had run out of room on a jump drive halfway through downloading files.

She pleaded social fatigue and went back up to the room she and Lily share. By the end of the day, where there still was no letter or Professor visiting from Hogwarts, and she was becoming increasingly anxious. Belatedly she realised that if she was not born in this time that the Quill of Acceptance might have somehow not gotten her on the records.

Hermione wondered if she should write to Professor Dumbledore. He was still the Headmaster in this time, and he always had a way of knowing the unknowable. However, although she’d never admit it to Harry and Ron, Hermione had not always liked his way of approaching problems. He could be manipulative, and had a habit of treating people as pieces on chess boards. Often it seemed like he only cared about the outcome, with little regard for how many people were affected in the meantime. And Hermione was not sure that he ever tried to find a way for Harry to not have to walk to his death.

Regardless, she decided to table that line of thought for the time being. September 1st was still almost a year away; she resolved that she would consider the options and wait to write to the Headmaster until March, when she would still have six months to deal with his response. In the meantime, she would try to acclimate to this new timeline as best she could, and brainstorm solutions about how to get to Hogwarts on her own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested, the name of the cat, Pyrrhus, comes from Greek mythology (which I’m a nerd about). Hermione in Greek myth was the daughter of Menelaus and Helen of Troy (as in, the Trojan war). Hermione married Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, who was also called Pyrrhus. I am a major, major mythology nerd and I know most people say the name Hermione is from the Winter's Tale, but here, it's from Greek myth. 
> 
> Also, I am like...in my 20s, and an American, meaning that I have very little idea what the UK was like in the 70s. Sorry in advance? Research can only do so much. 
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	5. Adjustments

 By the time January rolled around, there still had not been any word from Hogwarts, or anyone else in the Wizarding World. Hermione had mostly adjusted to life with the Evans and all that it entailed. No one seemed to have noticed that “their” Hermione had been replaced with a time traveling witch from the future - she was not sure if her new family was naturally that oblivious, whether there was magic involved, or whether the first Hermione was a bit eccentric in the first place. Perhaps it was a combination of all three.

Probably the biggest element of culture shock, particularly after Christmas, was that all of the other Evans were deeply religious. They attended church services almost every Sunday, and she and Lily regularly went to Sunday school - Petunia had already been confirmed and now attended the regular adult service. The Grangers had been staunchly atheist, and had considered themselves to be resolutely people of science, with no room left for religion. This meant that Hermione felt like a fish out of water with much of the religious practices and traditions, but aside from one particular incident where she fell asleep at the all-ages service, she had been managing fine so far. She liked to think she has gotten very good at lip syncing imaginary words to hymns she was supposed to know, but had yet to memorize.

Hermione Evans was a strong student at school, but evidently had better social skills than Hermione Granger did, because she had a solid friend group. While her teachers liked her, it was not quite to the point of being a “teacher’s pet” and she mostly flew under the academic radar. She was confident that if she wanted she could make herself out to be some kind of child genius, but at the moment she was content to stay largely unnoticed.

The most important development during the two months she’d been in this time is that she had finally figured out the story behind her adoption. Evidently, the before-Hermione used to keep journals, which were inordinately helpful in figuring out the nuances of her new life. The journals were sporadic; she appeared to have written in them daily for a month and then stop for an extended period of time. According to the journals (she refused to call them diaries), the story was neither unexpected nor unusual: her biological mother became pregnant as a teenager and gave the baby (her) up for adoption after giving birth. Supposedly her biological mother had been the younger sister of one of Robert’s friends, but that was sparsely mentioned.  There was not any discussion of her biological father, but she wondered if it would be possible to claim having a wizarding parent. She thought it was possible that being acknowledged as a Half-Blood would soothe some of the stresses that had occurred at Hogwarts the first time around.

Within the first month of her stay there, she had come to a conclusion about Severus: he was a _complete_ arse. At least, to anyone but Lily, whom he evidently adored and had a not-so-subtle crush on. Petunia was the only one who he openly antagonised, but to everyone else, he was callous, snarky, and often blatantly rude. When Hermione informed him of her wish to go by Hermione instead of Jean, he snidely commented that at least she had a “normal” middle name she could fall back on, since her first name was patently awful. She resisted the childish urge to tell him that his was not much better, figuring that would just make everything worse.

When it came to her adopted parents, Hermione’s relationship with them was decent, although perhaps on the cool side. The Evans were not the overly affectionate type, and they didn’t believe in coddling their children. She and Lily were practically like twins - they were only a couple months apart in age, and were in the same year at school. Meanwhile, Petunia could be a bit obnoxious, in the ‘I’m older than you and therefore I’m better than you’ kind of way that older siblings sometimes took on.

Lily’s 11th birthday fell at the end of January, on the 30th. It was a Saturday. Severus had told them that his Hogwarts letter had arrived, as expected, on the ninth, and Lily had been eagerly looking forward to getting hers. Lily was so excited that she had decided to not have a party, lest they miss the visit from a Hogwarts professor.

As expected, on January 30th, a woman knocked on the front door with three precise raps. Lily, and to a lesser extent Hermione, had essentially been on a stakeout of the front door the entire day. When Catherine opened it, Hermione was half-expecting to see a younger Professor McGonagall. Instead, it was a tall, stick-thin woman who had managed to pull of Muggle fashion much better than Professor McGonagall ever did. The professor had short brunette hair that looked out of place in 1971, and was wearing high waisted slacks and a royal blue button down blouse. She stuck her hand out to introduce herself, “Good evening, Mrs. Evans. My name is Phoebe Davis. I’m a professor from a prestigious school who’s here to talk to you about educational opportunities for your daughters.”

“I can’t say I was expecting you,” Catherine looked understandably confused, but good manners outweighed her bemusement, “but please, come on inside.”

They made their way to the living room, and Catherine started to fix tea, as though automatically. Meanwhile, Professor. Davis settled herself on the chaise. “If all of your family could come down here, that might be beneficial. The less times I have to explain everything, the better for everyone involved.”

Hermione, Lily, and Catherine were all already in the living room, but Catherine yelled up the stairs for Petunia and Robert. Petunia, as she often did, looked vaguely annoyed at the world and her family, as though she resented having to be there.

Hands were shaken all around and Professor Davis reintroduced herself, before dropping the bomb. “I’m a representative from a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Here, she held up a hand as though trying to stall the inevitable questions. “I’m the head astronomy teacher, as well as the Deputy Headmistress, which is why I’m here today. You see, magic is real. I’m a witch, as are two of your daughters - Hermione and Lily.”

The two younger daughters were already on board with this whole concept, helped to understanding by Severus, but Catherine and Robert appeared to be in mild shock. “Magic? Well, that’s a bit ridiculous, if you don’t mind me saying. Is this some kind of prank?” This was Robert, and he had started to work himself into a bit of a fluster.

“I assure you, this is not at all a prank, although I do get that reaction quite a lot. Magic is real, although the Wizarding World goes to great lengths to keep its existence hidden from Muggles - non magical people like yourselves. Here, if I may demonstrate,” As Professor Davis spoke she had pulled out her wand, and swished it at the teapot, which rose slowly into the air.

Robert continued to look skeptical, and picked up the teapot as though inspecting it for any invisible strings that might have caused the levitation. Finding none, he looked partially convinced. “Well, then, why are Hermione and Lily...wizards? Witches? How does that even happen?”

“An excellent question. As it turns out, usually magic is hereditary, and children of wizards are themselves wizards. Sometimes, that isn’t the case, but that’s quite rare. Equally rare is what we call Muggleborns - wizards and witches born to non-magical parents. Our society isn’t entirely certain what causes either of these phenomenons. What is truly exceptional in this case is that _two_ of your children are magical. Hogwarts has a magical artifact that sends out letters to accepted students, throughout the UK. Usually there are about 200 students per year, although this upcoming year’s class is a little bigger than that. I’ve bought two copies of a book we publish that is a brief primer on the history of the school and how it works in modern form.”

She handed one copy to Catherine, and one copy to Robert. Hermione was somewhat surprised - they had not had these when Professor McGonagall came around in 1990. Craning her neck, Hermione could make out the title: _A Brief Introduction to Hogwarts as an Institution,_ with a sketch of the castle on the front, thankfully not moving.

As they took in this information, the family was mostly silent, although Lily’s leg bounced with anticipation. Professor Davis continued, “I have the letters for both of you - they detail what supplies you’ll need to start school, and how to get to the train station - yes, it really is platform 9 3/4.” She carried on talking, explaining about how to get to the Leaky Cauldron and then into Diagon Alley.

“I don’t mean to be crass, but...how much is the tuition?” Robert tentatively broached this question, continuing on, “Catherine and I are comfortable enough, but we don’t have the money to send two of our girls to private school.” Robert was a manager at one of the steel factories in town, and did well enough for himself (certainly better than the Snapes) but they were not so well off as to have an easy time paying for that much private education. Catherine was, for the most part, a stay-at-home mom, although she sometimes did some secretarial work for a lawyer friend of the family.

Here, Professor Davis smiled. This part was perhaps the easiest part of these conversations. “Although you will have to pay for books and supplies, Hogwarts is actually tuition free. While not exactly a public school, it is our world’s equivalent in that it is funded by the government, although it is independently managed. The tradeoff is that standarized Wizarding education doesn’t begin until age 11 - before that, parents arrange for their children’s schooling with no public options, which means many are homeschooled. We often find that Muggleborns actually do much better in some areas of education, such as writing essays, although they often struggle with culture shock to varying degrees.”

Lily looked momentarily perplexed - apparently this had not been covered with Severus, although 11 year olds tend to be relatively oblivious to cultural sensitivities unless directly confronted with them. “Culture shock? Is it really that different? After all, we’re all British,” Lily asked.

“You’d be surprised. Yes, Magical Britain really is that different. Our worlds have been mostly kept apart since the the late 17th century, and wizards are extremely resistant to change. I personally recommend reading _Magical Culture and Etiquette,_ by Leanne Shafiq. It’s just an introduction to the topic, but it will keep you from making the more obvious gaffes,” Professor Davis explained.

Following a few more minutes of idle chit-chat, Professor Davis took her leave and Robert and Catherine hurried off to talk about what Hermione assumed was ‘private adult matters’.

Petunia gave the two of them a nasty glare, throwing over her shoulder as she left, “I always said you were a freak, Lily. And now I know that Hermione is too.”

Lily’s face scrunched as though she was trying to hold back tears before she hurried back up to the room she and Hermione shared. Hermione briefly shook her head to clear it before following. “She’ll come around, Lily,” Hermione said although she wasn’t so certain, “And even if she doesn’t, we’ll be away for nine months out of the year.”

“I know,” Lily mumbled, “And I’m excited, truly. Especially because you’ll be there too - I had thought that when you didn’t get a letter in September, it would just be me and Severus going, but it will be ever so much better to have you there too.”

“Severus is going to lose it. He was so sure that I wasn’t a witch,” Hermione giggled.

Lily nodded in amusement. “Hey, Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you’re also Muggleborn, through some crazy coincidence? Or...that one of your biological parents was Magical.”

“There’s no way to know, is there? My adoption records are sealed - maybe once I’m 18 I’ll be able to look at them and see if there’s a name I can research. Until then, though, I’ll just have to wonder.” Hermione had actually wondered about whether her biological parents in this body were the Grangers or the mom who’d given her up. It was a question that gave her a headache. She still had no idea why she was in the past, in this alternate reality, or what the mechanisms involved were. Snape’s portrait and the Sorting Had had both hinted at...something. She held out a faint hope that maybe once she got to Hogwarts there would be some sort of explanation. It was not just a matter of time travel gone wrong - something had warped the fabric of reality, and now she was...here, in 1971, with two adopted sisters. There was some bizarre aspect of Magic in play here, and she wouldn’t rest easy until she figured out what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this world, Hogwarts services the majority of students in the UK, and the student population depicted in canon is just a small sample size/a small size as a result of the war, but the real size of the student body is much larger. Some families send their children abroad, and others home school them, but most are schooled at Hogwarts.
> 
> In the UK, the population of children is around ~22% give or take, from what I could find online. That would translate to about 10% of the population being Hogwarts age, roughly speaking. However, I’ve chosen to decrease that number to more like 5% based on several factors: one, Wizarding folk live considerably longer, and two, many pure-blood families struggle to reproduce and often only have one, or maybe two children. So my estimation is that if there are 200 students per year, there are maybe 25,000 people in the UK Wizarding World - not counting Squibs and Muggles who are intertwined with it.That’s an extremely loose estimate. In addition, I know that canon says most students in other countries are homeschooled, but in this world, most children go to school, just most of the schools are less prestigious than the canon ones.
> 
> Following that number, then, with about 1400 students at Hogwarts, there are multiple teachers for each subject, with a “head” teacher for each subject. More like departments at university than a primary school basically. So, say, for Transfiguration there might be one head professor, three additional professors, and also maybe some seventh year TAs, all covering maybe ~1200 students.
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	6. Oblique Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started school this week. It’s my last semester of undergrad (whoo!!) but I’m taking 21 units (not whoo). I’ve got four more chapters of this already written, but it’s possible that after I get those out postings will slow down a bit. Also my motivation has been kind of nonexistent lately, but hopefully I'll be able to keep up regular updates.

The next day, January 31st, was a Sunday. This proved to be somewhat unfortunate for Lily and Hermione, because that meant it was Church day. Catherine and Robert, as relatively devout Christians, turned out to not exactly thrilled with the fact that the daughters were witches. The Evans were not the type to take this out on their daughters, but when Lily and Hermione woke up the next morning, they made it clear that the family (minus Petunia) would be having some serious conversation with the priest after the service. The night before, Professor Davis had impressed upon them the need for secrecy, but their parents were firm in their resolve that they get spiritual guidance of some sort, even if it was not as specific as they thought should be.

It was a tense conversation. Priest David was kindly, but stern, and he was an adamant adherent to his faith. When the Evans refused to give him details, only saying that they needed advice for keeping the daughters faithful, he grew frustrated. Hermione was certain that were they a couple years older, he would have assumed this conversation was about sex, but he would not have expected that from 11 year olds. Barring sexual indiscretions, she did not know what the priest would think. By all counts, It was a distinctly unsatisfactory dialogue for everyone involved.

Then, later that afternoon they told Severus about Professor Davis’ visit and his jaw dropped. “Wait - but - you never showed showed the slightest signs of magic, Jean!”

“Don’t call me that,” Hermione replied irritably, for perhaps the thirtieth time. “It’s Hermione. And obviously I did, you just didn’t see it.” She still hadn’t been able to perform any magic, but she had never been able to do wandless spells in the first place, so there was no telling whether there might be anything wrong.

“You’re adopted, aren’t you?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“ _Yes_ _,_ I’m adopted,” Hermione snapped. Lily had already brought this up multiple times and it was rapidly becoming a sore subject. “ _No,_ I don’t know who my biological parents are, so there’s no way of knowing if they were wizards.”

“Well, they must have been, statistically speaking. Muggleborns are incredibly rare - it’s probably less than one in a couple thousand, although I don't know specific statistics. The odds that both of you, in the same family, would be Muggleborn - it’s profoundly unlikely.”

“Professor Davis mentioned that too,” Lily chimed in, “Although I’m not sure she knew Hermione was adopted.”

“I’m not sure she did, either.” At this point, Hermione pulled out a copy of the book Professor Davis had given their parents. There were no moving pictures in the book, which she theorised was because of the strong likelihood that a Muggle could get their hands on it. As it was, they would likely just think it was a bizarre fantasy book, but moving pictures would challenge that belief. From what Hermione had been able to tell, it was a much abridged copy of _Hogwarts, A History._ It also included an outline of all the subjects offered at Hogwarts, including a number which were no longer offered in her time. Another crucial component of the book was a staff directory, with a list of the teachers for each subject, which revealed that Professor Davis was also the Head of Ravenclaw. “Have either of you thought about what house you’ll want to be in?” She wondered aloud. Severus, she was pretty certain, would be in Slytherin no matter what universe it was, but he had not expressly said so thus far.

“All of my mum’s family - the purebloods - were in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, according to her. Mostly Slytherin. Given that they abandoned her though I don’t feel a strong need to be like them, but I’m quite certain I’d make an _awful_ Gryffindor or Hufflepuff,” Severus said with a curl of his upper lip. Privately, Hermione disagreed with his self assessment - he certainly could be brave in certain situations, such as in third year protecting them from Remus once the moon had come out, and as clearly demonstrated through decades of espionage - and she rather thought he was selling himself short.

Hermione, of course, already knew all about the houses. Her knowledge might be a bit outdated (or whatever the term in this situation was), but she’d experienced Hogwarts, unlike Severus and Lily. Severus knew everything from his mother, but she was not overly forthcoming about most things. Lily had picked up what she knew either from Severus, or from the book Professor Davis had brought.

“Both of you will be Ravenclaws, I suspect,” Severus continued. It was true - Hermione and Lily were two peas in a pod when it came to academics and learning. Still, Hermione felt vaguely insulted at the lack of inner Gryffindor his statement implied. Then she remembered the Resorting, and was instantly worried. What if she got placed in Slytherin this time around, too? Hermione was pretty certain that Slytherin was _not_ a good environment for a Muggleborn witch in the 70s, and war was brewing. That would be...inconvenient at best, and downright deadly at worst.

“Maybe we'll all be in Ravenclaw together,” Lily supplied optimistically. Severus snorted at this, but did not say anything, and Hermione kept her mouth shut.

“We should all go to Diagon Alley, the three of us,” Hermione suggested. “Maybe in July or August.” This was greeted by an enthusiastic nod from Lily, and a slight inclination of the head from Severus, who did not do enthusiasm.

When the time came to go to Diagon Alley, it was mid-August. The Evans parents had been unsupportive of magic, and clearly still had misgivings both on a religious basis, and just from a standpoint of general unease with magic. They were not enthused by the idea of taking Hermione and Lily, so they gave the girls some notes. It was determined that Eileen, Severus’ mum, would take all three of them by car.

Eileen was a depressing witch, Hermione determined during the car ride. She dressed in Muggle clothes which were all black, which was probably where Severus got it from. Neither one of them would look out of place at a goth gathering. Aside from that, though, her entire mood was...flattened. Her smiles never reached her eyes and she didn’t once laugh.

The Leaky Cauldron had not changed much from when Hermione had been there in 1998. The one difference was that it was not Tom behind the counter, but instead a jovial blond youth named Ryan. Hermione was surprised when Eileen went up to him and asked him to unlock the Alley. When Hermione looked up at her with a questioning face, she muttered something about not having a wand.

Lily gasped audibly when the Alley opened up - the tall whitewashed buildings, the rush of people in robes, and the sight of dozens of owls flying above made it an impressive sight for anyone who was not used to it. Severus was similarly, if less obviously, impressed. And while Hermione had seen it many times, it felt like coming home. When she was here last it had been after a war and it was just picking back up to its former glory. Now, the energy of the people was infectiously happy, and she felt a grin arise on her face from the ambiance.

The first stop was Gringotts - none of them had vaults to speak of, but they needed to exchange Muggle money for Galleons. As she observed the goblins, Hermione was struck by the realisation that somewhere in the bowels of this building was the dragon she had once ridden in a prior life. It was not just that the thought was odd, but also that she remembered the state of the sorely abused and neglected dragon. The Wizarding World definitely needed to get up to date on the proper treatment of animals. Following that, they left to go to Ollivanders.

The Wandmaker’s shop was cluttered, but clean. As they looked around, a familiar thin voice greeted them. “New Hogwarts students, then? You all look about the right age. Which of you are here for wands?” As he talked, Hermione recognised a considerably younger Garrick Ollivander as he stood up from a worktable which had a wand that was currently in progress.

Severus straightened up. He had been the first one in the door, and therefore was their unofficial spokesperson. “I’m Severus Snape. These are my friends, Lily and Hermione Evans, who are Muggleborns. We all grew up in the same neighborhood.”

Well, there was no time like the present. “I’m not Muggleborn,” Hermione began haltingly. She ignored the startled glances from her companions and continued, “Lily and I are sisters, but I’m adopted - my parents were wizards.” She put as much confidence into this last part as she can muster, even though she still wasn’t quite sure what the situation there was.

Ollivander looked at her over his spectacles in a way that made her feel like he could see into her soul. He did not say anything, but a shiver ran up her spine. “I see. Well, then. Mr. Snape, if you would go first? Which is your wand hand?”

Severus held out his left hand. As he did so, Hermione was reminded that someday, unless things happened differently this time around, that arm would bear the Dark Mark. The tape measure began zipping around his body. Ollivander eyed him with thinly veiled interest. “Let’s try this first - 12 ½ inches, beech, dragon heartstring. Go on, give it a wave.” Severus waved it, and a visible zap ran up his arm. He dropped the wand and shook out his hand as he frowned. “No, definitely not,” the Wandmaker muttered. Ollivander quickly tried another, and then another, which produced lukewarm but not painful results. The fifth one sputtered a tendril of flame out, which Ollivander quickly put out. The next two were also unsuccessful, but the eighth - 10 ½ inches, pine, and dragon heartstring - produced a shower of silver sparks. Severus’ eyes widened as he felt the connection, and Ollivander nodded approvingly. “Good, good. That is a wand which is well suited to a powerful and independent individual. Which of you ladies is next?”

Lily stepped forward, clearly very nervous, and offered her right arm when prompted. After four tries, she ended up with a 10 ¼ inch wand made of willow, with a unicorn hair core. Then, it was Hermione’s turn, and she held out her right hand. Ollivander still looked at her with an expression that was somewhere in between disdain and an intense interest.

When Hermione had found her first wand, it had only taken five tries. This time, however, she felt as though she had tried at least two dozen before she found the right one. Meanwhile, she had lit multiple things on fire and Ollivander’s piercing gaze had only strengthened. The last one, which was 12 inches, hawthorn and had a phoenix feather core, produced a bright golden light that illuminated the otherwise dim shop.

“Hmm,” Ollivander said speculatively. “Yes, I can see why that would be it. Hawthorn wands are well suited to individuals who themselves seem to be walking contradictions. I think we shall have to keep an eye on you, Miss Evans.” He was frowning, as though Hermione’s wand choice was some great personal affront.

They each paid for their wands and left, Ollivander still staring into space at the spot where Hermione’s wand had been kept.

“What do you reckon that was all about, Hermione?” queried Severus.   
Hermione shrugged helplessly. It could be about any number of things pertaining to her past, and she had to admit, sometimes she _did_ feel like a ‘walking contradiction’. The Gryffindor who was resorted into Slytherin; the adopted Muggleborn claiming to be a Half-Blood; the girl whom everyone viewed as having a rock-steady moral compass but who could be ruthless when she needed to be.   
  
Ruthlessness was, Hermione reflected, the most practical of all emotions if you only cared about yourself. She definitely cared about others, although in this timeline she wasn’t certain that she would sacrifice much for any of the people she had met. However, for all that she could care for others, she was equally capable of setting people aside if it became necessary. Whether that was a good thing or not, she still had yet to decide. Maybe that had some aspect to do with why she had recently been placed in Slytherin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just like...lowkey ignoring the Creevey brothers when it comes to magical genetics. Creative license. As we start to move into some semblance of actual plot, if anyone has anything specific they'd like to see, please let me know!
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	7. We Believe in Magic

Next, the trio left to go to Flourish and Blotts. Eileen pleaded fatigue and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, saying to come and find her in the pub when they were finished with the rest of the shopping. In addition to their standard textbooks, Hermione purchased a copy of _Magical Culture and Etiquette,_ the book Professor Davis had mentioned. Leafing through it, it initially appeared like it could be quite helpful. She also purchased an introductory book on Occlumency that she carefully hid from her companions - knowing as many secrets as she did, it was important she develop at least some rudimentary skills to protect her mind. While she looked for books on magical genetics, not surprisingly, the Wizarding World hadn’t caught up to the idea of DNA. She was already planning to purchase some Muggle science textbooks to bring with her. The first time around, she had severely neglected Muggle knowledge bases, and she resolved to not do so this time.

Hermione noticed Severus lingering in the potions section - it seemed this interest of his predated Hogwarts. She went over. “Are you interested in potions, Severus?”

He nodded. “Most of magic involves wands, you know. It’s only a couple subsets where wands aren’t the focus, although apparently higher level potions often incorporate wand movements. My Mum only has a couple of books left over from her Hogwarts days, but she has two Potions texts that I’ve already read. It’s fascinating. A lot of Wizards totally disregard potions, but the fact is, there are a lot of potions that are quite useful and can’t be replicated by any techniques from other fields.”

Hermione smiled at him. Already, she could see the glimmers of the speech he gave to the first years every year. Admittedly, 11 year old Severus was a considerably warmer creature than Professor Snape was, but he was still very socially awkward. That was probably a result of his stunted upbringing - anyone with eyes could tell the Snape family was not a happy household, although she did not know how far that went. The Snapes appeared to have a very unpleasant home life. 

As they left the bookstore, Hermione showed the culture book to Lily, who scoffed. “I think Professor Davis was exaggerating. Just walking around today we’ve been fine, you realise, right? It can’t be that different. Besides, even if there are _some_ differences, I think Muggles probably have the right of it in most cases.”

Hermione had first-hand experienced the consequences of failing to conform to cultural expectations. She sniffed. “Well, if that’s what you think, then I doubt I’ll be able to change your mind. I do highly recommend you look at it, though, because I don’t think you’d want to embarrass yourself by messing something important up.”

Lily continued to look highly skeptical, but Severus piped up, “I’d actually like to borrow it, Hermione. For all that my Mum is a Witch, she hasn’t expanded upon what kinds of customs wizards have. I think it could come in handy.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. Seeing she was outnumbered, Lily rolled her eyes but did not continue to pursue the matter. .

The next stop was Eeylops Owl Emporium. All of them had agreed to get one owl to share to deliver letters to their parents and any other parties. Severus had his heart set on an Eagle Owl, whereas Lily preferred a Great Horned Owl. Hermione was partial to a Barn Owl, but recognised that one of them would have to give in. At least she had Pyrrhus, the cat that her parents had gotten her in September. The ginger cat was a personality; for a cat, he was abnormally friendly and outgoing and loved all new people.

The bell rang as they entered the shop. A thin woman greeted them, “Off to Hogwarts, then? Looking for an owl?”

Hermione smiled at her. “Yes. Although, we’re not really sure what kind of owl we want - we’re all going to be sharing, you see. What would you recommend for a first time owl?”

“Of course. Well, partially it’s about looks, of course, but aside from that, different owl species often have different temperments. Our most common species are the barn owl, eagle owl, tawny owl, snowy owl, great horned owl, short-eared owl, and the long-eared owl. Of those, the most friendly owls are the tawny owl, the barn owl, and the snowy owl - the other types often have a tendency towards being mercurial little creatures. We’ve got this lovely young tawny owl over here that I’d personally recommend. Her name is Toffee, although of course you’re welcome to change that. She’s had some excellent training, and while she isn’t huge, she’s big enough that she can carry most packages without difficulty.”

The shopkeeper led them into the back part of the store, which was somewhat of a greenhouse. The front of the store had all the supplies, but the owners preferred to let the owls have fresh air when possible. She stopped in front of one of the tawny owls as it perched high above their heads in one of the trees and clicked her tongue twice. The owl glided down. Hermione’s heart instantly melted. Toffee seemed as though she had a supernatural intelligence about her that exceeded that of the average owl, and she rested calmly on the girl’s forearm. “I love her,” Hermione breathed. “Could we hold her?”

The shopkeeper nodded and pulled out three thick leather gloves, which she handed to each of them. Lily’s eyes went big when the owl landed on her arm - neither she nor Severus had, to Hermione’s knowledge, ever held a raptor like this on their arms, although it was a common practice in the Wizarding World. It was daunting, to be fair - most owls could be intimidating creatures when they wanted to be. “This one,” Lily murmured, “She’s so pretty.”

Severus nodded his agreement, and it was settled, all disagreement from earlier forgotten. They purchased Toffee, a collapsible cage, treats, and gloves for each of them so they could safely handle her. There were spells that could be used to allow owls safe landing spots on people, but they were charms that they would not be expected to perform until third year or later. Without a barrier in place, owls’ sharp talons would pierce through clothing and continue on to cut through the skin. It was an uncomfortable experience. The owl would be staying with the Evans when they were not at Hogwarts, seeing as how Tobias Snape was a loathsome being who refused to have any obvious traces of magic in his house.

The rest of their stops went by quickly - Madam Malkin’s for clothes, Pottage’s cauldron shop, Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment for all the miscellaneous items. Hermione wistfully eyed the magical trunks that were available, but expensive. It would be nice to have the expanded capacity and lighter weight, but their parents had not given them enough money to cover such purchases. She wondered if sometime that year she would be able to charm her own trunk with an Undetectable Extension Charm, although it was, technically speaking, illegal. It was something to consider, at any point.

When they finally left Diagon Alley with Eileen, almost five hours had passed since they had arrived, and they were all worn out. They were all weighed down with purchases, which they piled into the boot of the car and went back to Cokeworth in.

September 1st dawned bright and early. Lily and Hermione were content with their Muggle clothes, but Severus had insisted on wearing robes, even though it would make him stand out in the Muggle world. The train was scheduled to leave at 11, and the Evans (plus Severus) were planning to leave Cokeworth at 7 in the morning to make sure they got there in time,  although it was only supposed to be a two and a half hour drive without traffic. Of course, like always, there was traffic, so when they arrived at half past ten, they were all grateful for the forward planning. Professor Davis had explained how to get to the platform. Although everyone was uncertain about running face first into a brick wall, they succeeded without issue, and all too soon, Catherine and Robert were hugging the girls goodbye with wishes for a good year. “You’ll come back for the winter holidays, won’t you?” pleaded Catherine.

Lily nodded. “Of course we will, Mum.” Hermione wasn’t certain she herself would want to, but there was no point in saying that now, so she smiled and nodded in agreement.

“Write us with that blasted owl of when you get there,” Robert insisted. He hadn’t liked Toffee, said it was just too weird and demanded to know why wizards could not just use the Royal Mail like the entire rest of the country.

With one last set of hugs, they all boarded the train and set off to find a compartment. Unfortunately, in Hermione’s opinion, the one they found was with whom she recognised as a young Sirius Black and James Potter.

James greeted them enthusiastically with a lopsided grin. “Are you lot first years too?”

When they nodded, his grin grew even wider. “Great! Come in, sit down, it’ll be good to know other people in our year. I only know a couple, because Mum and Dad don’t have many friends with kids our age. I’m James Potter, and this is Sirius Black.”

Introductions and handshakes went all around, but Sirius had a slight sneer on his face as he looked at Hermione and Lily. “Are you two Muggleborns? Those Muggle clothes are filthy. If you’re going to sit with us you need to change out of that rubbish.”

Everyone else looked at him in surprise. James reacted first. “Mate, don’t talk like that. I know you’re a Black, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head.” Sirius looked taken aback by the rebuke, as though he wasn’t used to anyone ever calling him out on anything. James moved his gaze from Sirius to Hermione, “Still, though, it mightn’t hurt to get into robes, you know. You’ll have to by the time we get to the castle anyway.”

“Fine,” Lily snapped, “But only because we’ll need to eventually, not because there’s anything wrong with Muggle clothes. Come on, Hermione.” She flounced out the door, leaving Hermione feeling faintly perplexed.

When they returned to the compartment, it was to find Severus on the verge of a shouting match with Sirius, James uncomfortably wedged against the window as though trying to escape the scene.

“ - they _are_ uncultured!” yelled Sirius. “Muggles are terrible, rude, dirty, and all around pigs. Muggleborns aren’t much better because they’re raised by the Muggles, and by the time they get here, they’re hopeless.”

“ _Some_ Muggles are terrible, sure! Just like some Wizards are terrible. If you actually bothered to interact with any Muggles, you’d realise they’ve got just as much culture as we do even if some of them are awful. You’re just too much of a coward to go somewhere you’re not familiar with and find out for your own bloody self,” snapped Severus. “Lily, Hermione, come on, we’re leaving,” he bit out as he stormed out of compartment.

As the door slammed behind him, she could start to hear James, “Really, Sirius, that wasn’t…” before the door swallowed the sounds of his words.

Getting ahold of her wits, Hermione said sagely, “Blood purists are kind of like the racists of the Wizarding World. It’s pretty progressive in some ways, like in how witches aren’t viewed any lower because they’re women, and how homosexuality is accepted - but in a lot of other ways Wizards are stuck a century in the past.” Her sentence struck her as subtly ironic, given that _she_ was stuck in the past, albeit by not nearly a century.

“Why aren’t Wizards sexist the same way Muggles are, anyway?” Lily looked puzzled, as though she was starting to put the pieces together regarding the fact that there was, in fact, a significant cultural difference.

“Oh, that goes back really far. It’s quite interesting, if you think about it. You see, in the Muggle world, part of the reason women were viewed as inferior was because of lesser strength, right? Magic solves that problem entirely. Although men might be biologically stronger by default, women are just as capable as men when it comes to performing most types of magic, so strength stops being an issue for perceived inadequacies. There are some parts of magic that men might be better at, or that women might be better at, but in general those are pretty archaic and seldom used forms. And then, men have a much bigger role in parenting in the Wizarding World. Men who aren’t involved with their kids’ lives are actually viewed very negatively, so that issue is evened out some. It also helps that two of the Hogwarts Founders were women, I think...” Hermione trailed off.

Severus quite clearly had never given sexism any thought, either in the Muggle world of the Wizarding one. His lips were pursed as he asked, “Where did you even learn all of that?”

“Oh, books, of course.” That was not entirely true - Hermione had learned a lot of it from books, but also through simply having been in the Wizarding World for eight years.

Severus and Lily nodded, appearing to take her words at face value.

When they got to Hogwarts hours later, it was night time, and a light drizzle was falling from the starlit sky. They were joined in their boat by a sandy haired, scrawny boy who introduced himself as Remus Lupin, to Hermione’s joy. Several boats behind them, she could see James, Sirius, a chubby blonde boy with a cherubic face, and an Asian girl with long black hair that went down to her waist getting into their own boat. Hermione frowned at the sight of Sirius, her brow furrowed in annoyance and confusion at the concept of a Sirius who was a Blood Purist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic, Sirius is initially a blood purist (and a snob) - not because he’s inherently a terrible person, but because that’s all he’s known. Eventually he realises there are other options. Also, he doesn’t use the word Mudblood here - in canon, Draco didn’t use it until second year, despite plenty of opportunity, and Sirius isn’t a fervent believer in blood purity the way Draco was, it’s just his default.
> 
> In addition, I’m deviating from canon regarding the Potter parents: here they are Dorea (neé Black) and Charlus Potter, not Fleamont and Euphemia.
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	8. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been super, insanely busy with classes (21 units is no joke, y'all) and have gotten zero writing done in the last week. Motivation is greatly appreciated.
> 
> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!

Thankfully, no one fell in the lake. It was oddly refreshing to see Hagrid, though. When they arrived up to the harbor, they tromped up the stairs to the Entrance Hall, where Professor Davis greeted them. “Good evening, everyone. Welcome to Hogwarts. For those who do not know me, I am Professor Davis, the Deputy Headmistress. I also teach Astronomy and am the Head of Ravenclaw house. We are about to enter the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into the houses you will remain in for your entire time at Hogwarts. The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. They each have lengthy histories and stand for different personality traits. When I call your name, you will come up front, sit on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on your head. After you are sorted, you will join your fellow classmates at the respective table. All clear?”

Some of the first years nodded, Hermione among them, but the majority of them seemed to be petrified by nerves. As they started getting called up to the front, the apprehensive energy only seemed to amplify. Sirius Black caused quite the stir when he landed in Gryffindor - instead of the usual robust applause, the hall was eerily silent for the first moment, before breaking out into awkward applause. At the Slytherin table, she could see quiet murmurings spoken from anxious in a group of older purebloods to the center. And then, all too soon, it was her turn. She was jolted back into awareness by the Deputy Headmistress’ loud voice calling out, “Evans, Hermione!” which was still a name at times she struggled to respond to.

She walked up to the stage with an even pace that belied the anxiety coiling low beneath her stomach. The Hat worked through Legilimency, so it would know everything she knew. She had started to look through the Occlumency book she had bought from Flourish and Blotts, but she knew she was nowhere near the level that would be needed to block out an ancient artifact. She bit her lip as she walked. _If the Hat can see my mind, that means it will know as much about the future as I do. And...clearly, I’ve already changed at least some parts of the future._

She sat down on the stool, the Hat sinking low down on her head. _Hermione Evans, is it? Or...should I say Granger. No matter, though you’re quite the conundrum. Time traveler, eh? We don’t get those very often. Why, I think it’s been close to three hundred years since the last one._

_There’ve been others? What can you tell me about them?_

_Nothing of import. I sorted the last one, he went on to have a thoroughly boring life here at school - I don’t have a way of knowing what you children get up to outside of these walls. Now, to the matter at hand. You have quite the personality. I so rarely get to sort anyone older than 11. It’s a delight to see how the mind develops as you age. For instance - you now is nothing like you were when you were 11. Er, the first time._ The Hat paused, as though slightly confused by this circumstance and the accompanying terminology. Good, that meant she was not the only one perplexed by the words for her situation.

 _This is my third time being sorted, in case you hadn’t noticed that already,_ she mentally prodded. _I think I know the drill by now. So if you could just go ahead and put me...somewhere. That would be great._

 _Well yes, I’m getting to that bit. All of my sortings are important, of course, but some have much greater potential for world impact than others. I can’t see the future, but having seen inside the minds of most of Britain’s population at some point or another does lend itself to having premonitions. And your sorting has more potential impact than the vast majority of them. I can see why the Castle decided to send you back here._ A question started to form in her head, but before it was formulated enough to have a sentence, the Hat interrupted. _No, stop that. I can’t tell you anything more than I’ve already told you, and that was more than I should have. At any point, I have to take my time with you. Any preferences I should take into account?_

_I’m not exactly happy about the prospect of being in Slytherin. I wasn't happy to be resorted there last time. But, things are different now than they were in the eighth year sorting. With the first war looming, I think that if I don’t end up murdered in my bed for being a Mudblood, I could have the best impact there._

_I’m sad to say that being murdered in your bed_ is _a possibility, particularly in that house. Or outside your bed, naturally, might be more likely. If you play your cards right though...yes._ “SLYTHERIN!” the Sorting Hat shorted. At least this time, it was not quite the shock that it had been in 1998. She felt glumly resigned to her fate. Sneaking a glance back behind her, she saw a mix of emotions mingling on Lily’s face: shock, disappointment, and fear. By now, Lily was familiar with the prejudice in Slytherin, and was afraid for her sister.

Hermione trudged off to the Slytherin table. In the space of time since her sorting, people had spaced around around the bench, managing to make it so there were no obvious spots to climb in at except for at the end farthest from the teacher’s table. It was clear that there was some sort of seating hierarchy that she currently fell at the very bottom of. Well, there were ways to fix that, with time. Assuming she was not murdered quietly in the meantime. She took her seat. A boy with straw hair started to greet her, but she shushed him to pay attention to Lily’s sorting.

It went much quicker than she imagined her own had went - the Hat had only been on her sister’s head for maybe ten seconds before she went to Gryffindor. No surprises there. She turned back to straw-hair to apologise. “I’m sorry about that. That’s my _adopted_ sister, you see,” taking care to delicately emphasise ‘adopted’. “I’m Hermione Evans,” she continued, extending her hand to him for a shake.  

“Barty Crouch,” he replied. Hermione tried to conceal her surprise but probably did a poor job of it. That was one thing she apparently had not given as much thought it deserved: that a number of her house mates would soon end up as Death Eaters. A shiver ran down her spine. Concealing her blood status was going to be doubly important. He apparently had noticed her surprise though, and explained, “ _Yes,_ my dad is in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I assure you I’m not all that pleased about it, but that’s just how things are.”

“Right. Yes, of course. We can’t exactly pick our parents. I don’t know hardly anything about my biological parents other than that one of them was magical.”

He eyed her calculatingly. “So you’re not Muggleborn, then? Because I imagine most of the House thinks you are, currently. Or a no-name Half-Blood at best.”

“No-name Half-Blood would be the right descriptor, I suppose. But, no, not Muggleborn. Lily - my sister - she is, though. When Professor Davis came to deliver her letter she was quite surprised to see that there were two of us. But what are the odds of two Muggleborns in the same family? It’s just not likely in the slightest.”

Crouch nodded thoughtfully, appearing to take her words at face value. She tried to change the subject before going any further down this rabbit hole. “What year are you then, anyway?”

“I’m a second year. Only a year above you.”

“Oh, I see. What’s your favourite subject?”

“Probably Defence Against the Dark Arts, although I’m partial to Charms as well.” Here, he gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Don’t tell anyone else about Defence, though. Slytherins are supposed to like the Dark Arts, but not Defence. Defence is the only sanctioned way to learn about any of it though, which is worth something. And my father approves of the class, even though he doesn’t approve of my House.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Defence had always been Hermione’s worst subject, although she was certain that if she were tested on it now she would do perfectly well. Spending a year on the run had been good practice in that department. “I’m most looking forward to Astronomy, actually.”

Crouch wrinkled his nose. “Astronomy? That class is dead boring. Almost everyone drops it the minute they finish their OWLs. The NEWT class is so small the sixth and seventh years take it together.”

“I know everyone thinks that,” she said earnestly. “But the thing about Astronomy is that it affects so many different areas of magic that people don’t even realise. For instance, the fact that certain potions ingredients have to be gathered during a certain phase of the moon. Many spells are performed differently depending on which area of the world you’re in, based on the stars visible.That’s why most of Europe uses Latin spells, even though no one actually _speaks_ Latin anymore, because that’s the language that works best for our environment. Go elsewhere though and the spells you learned here might not be as strong as in, say, Japan.” 

“Clearly you should have been in Ravenclaw,” he grunted. “Haven’t even taken any bloody classes yet and you’re already spouting off about bookwork.”

She shrugged. “Ravenclaw was considered. I’m still not certain why I ended up Slytherin though.” And she wasn’t. She hadn’t received a proper explanation for why in either of the times she’d been sorted into Slytherin. You think that with three sortings under her belt she’d know these things, but no such luck.

Severus was thankfully sorted into Slytherin, and received a similar set of disgruntled glares. Apparently, if you didn’t have a Wizarding surname as a Slytherin, your life became more difficult. He took a seat next to her and she introduced him and Crouch to each other. Once dinner was finished, the fifth year prefects took the new first-years down to the dungeons, carefully explaining the landmarks to get to the Common Room. Hermione got her fair share of dirty looks, but thankfully nothing more potent than that.

Once in the Common Room, all the prefects greeted the forty-something new Slytherin first years. One of the older girls stepped forwards. “Welcome, everyone. I am Cassandra Nott, your seventh year prefect. Our Head of House is Professor Slughorn, who is also the primary potions professor for NEWT level potions classes, although first-years typically have other teachers. I’d like to go over a couple of guidelines for the House before you all turn in for the night. Firstly, we will present a united front when outside these walls. The other houses are often collectively against us, and while I understand you won’t all get along, it is important that we do not show weakness in a school where we are already the minority. Secondly, if you’re going to do anything against the rules, do try not to get caught. There’s blatant favouritism towards other houses when it comes to matters of discipline, so Slytherins often get the short end of the stick there, so to say. And lastly, and most importantly, do not do anything to embarrass the house. Any questions?” Her tone made it clear she didn’t actually want questions, but was simply following a script. Hermione grimaced inwardly, and did her best to keep her feelings off her face. So far, her impression of Slytherin leadership wasn’t a good one.

When no one made the mistake of raising their hands, Nott nodded brusquely. “Excellent. The dormitories are structured such that first and second years are in one hallway, third and fourth in another, fifth and sixth in the third, and seventh years get a hallway to themselves. The first and second year hallway is the one directly to my left here. Rooms are segregated by gender and are grouped into four. It is possible to swap room assignments with the consent of all parties in both rooms to be affected. Should you wish to do so, you may petition myself or Jacob following the conclusion of the first month of classes.” She gestured towards whom Hermione assumed was the seventh year male prefect.

As they made their way to the first year hallway, Hermione caught Severus’ eyes. He nodded at her, his eyes warmer than she had ever seen them. Hogwarts was her home, and she was glad to be back.


	9. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten 900 words written in the last week, AKA not enough but more than nothing. Ugh. There may or may not be an update next week; I need to get caught up on editing.

The next morning, Hermione discovered what was so far her least favourite thing about Slytherin: the lack of natural light. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow last night, hardly bothering to interact with her new roommates. The dormitory was illuminated by a sickly green glow from the window into the lake, which as far as she was concerned, wasn not half as satisfactory as actual sunlight. She wondered if wizards had spells to replicate sunlight - if she was inside this room all the time her mood would quickly start to plummet.

She scowled fiercely as she realised she’d forgotten to bring a watch. She’d gotten out of the habit of carrying one, because she could always cast _Tempus_ to see what time it was, making a watch relatively unnecessary. Now though she wouldn’t be expected to be able to cast such spells for at least another year if not two or three, and casting one before classes started could incite suspicion. She sighed.

Luckily one of her roommates was already awake and going through morning ablutions. Hermione walked over to her. “Hi. Um, I’m afraid I don’t remember your name…” she trailed off awkwardly.

The girl looked her over appraisingly. “Akantha Rosier. And yours?”

“Hermione Evans.”

“Muggleborn?” This was said with a frown.

“Ah, no. Adopted by Muggles, but my biological parents were wizards.”

Rosier’s gaze became curious. “What were your parents names?”

Hermione rapidly thought on her feet. “We don’t know. But my Mum - the Muggle one - she said that she had seen my biological Dad perform magic once, although she didn’t recognise it as magic at the time. It wasn’t until Professor Davis came with our letters that Mum realised my parents had been Magical.”

Thankfully Rosier seemed to buy it. “Well, that makes sense, I suppose. It isn’t terribly uncommon, actually. Pregnancy out of wedlock is _highly_ frowned upon in the Pureblood community. Adoption to a Muggle family would make sense if they were hiding it. That’s a shame though, growing up with no knowledge of your entire culture. Muggleborns are always a bit behind the rest of us, my aunt says. They’re a bit slow.”

Hermione held her tongue. Of course Muggleborns were behind at first, because they had 11 years of knowledge to catch up on. Instead of saying anything, she just nodded. “I’m certain I’ll adjust just fine. At any point though, do you have the time?”

“It’s just after seven,” Rosier said as she looked at her watch.

“And breakfast is at eight, right?”

“Yes. I’m planning to get there early though, so I can get my timetable right away. That way I’ll have time to eat and come back to get my books for whatever class is first.”

“That’s a great idea.” Hermione had done that every year after her first, as she was keen on avoiding the mad dash that happened. “Would it be alright if we walked up together?”

Rosier nodded. “I don’t see why not. You’d best get ready quickly, then.”

Hermione went to the bathroom to put on her robes. She grimaced a little as she realised that if she wanted to be respected in Slytherin, it would mean forgoing Muggle clothing. She peeked her head out of the toilet to confirm this with Rosier. “I shouldn’t wear Muggle clothes, correct? What do pureblood Slytherin girls wear under their robes?”

Rosier frowned. “Usually just underthings, I suppose. I can’t say I’ve ever paid all that much attention to how Muggles dress. I’ve only been in non-Magical London twice,” she said with an air of disdain. “It wouldn’t be unusual at all though to wear a button-up and a skirt, though. Probably half the girls will wear Muggle clothes, but not as many boys. Once you get past Hogwarts there are dressier robes you can buy, so most of us wear those.” She moved over to her trunk to pull out a magazine. “Here, though. It’s an owl-order catalogue for Twilfit and Tattings. It could be helpful.”

The thought of wearing just a bra and knickers knickers was fear-inducing. Back home, she had always worn Muggle clothes under her robes. In the nineties, a white button-up shirt and skirts were mandatory parts of the uniform, along with the house tie. Here, there did not seem to be ties; instead, there was a Slytherin crest on the right chest and green trim at the wrists. Thankfully she had brought a set of a shirt and a skirt, but it was just one set, so she would either be doing laundry very frequently or she’d have to buy some new ones.

Once they were both dressed, Hermione in a white button-up and black, knee length skirt, they headed up to the Slytherin table. She’d gotten the sense that Rosier was a subtler type of blood-prejudiced - unexposed to Muggle culture, and with a general understanding that Muggles were lesser creatures, but having no desire to murder anyone. Well, not that most eleven year olds harbored thoughts of murder, unless maybe they were Bellatrix. It would do, for now. When they headed up, their other two roommates, whom Hermione could not remember, had yet to emerge from their beds. When she had proposed waking them up to Rosier, the other girl had just shrugged and told her that they would have to fend for themselves. Slytherins did not appear to be overly on board with having each others’ backs - she clearly was not in Hufflepuff.

As they were eating breakfast, a man whom Hermione recognised as a skinnier Professor Slughorn walked up and down the table, distributing timetables to the early risers. He gave them both their schedules without issue. Hermione looked at hers. She had Charms lecture first, with the Ravenclaws, following by a lab class in a separate classroom and presumably a smaller group. Rosier was in the same lecture, but a different lab section and different classroom, albeit during the same time.

The teacher for the lecture portion of the class was not Professor Flitwick, but instead a tall, balding, bearded Middle Eastern man who introduced himself as Professor Salib. “Welcome, class. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with how the Hogwarts teaching system works, I teach the lecture portions of first and second years. Other professors cover the upper years, including Professor Flitwick, who teaches the seventh years and is the head of the department. He wishes me to assure you that his office is open to all students for any difficulties. As far as this class, Charms will complement your Magical Theory class in many ways, and it’s a bit unfortunate that you lot have this class before that. Today though, we’ll be discussing what differentiates a charm from other sorts of spells.” He continued on to taking roll. Hermione was seated next to a Ravenclaw girl with pale blonde, almost white hair, although she never introduced herself.

Charms were the most common type of spell, and mostly characterised by their lack of fitting into other types. For instance, a jinx and a hex were both types of spells that were designed to harm others, with a specific target, the difference being that a jinx would wear off in its own time whereas a hex was permanent unless countered. Some spells could be both jinxes and charms depending on how they were specifically used. There were runic spells, which allowed for more specificity than a standard charm and which were taught in the Ancient Runes class. Obviously, there were also transfigurations, which were less dictated by the word for the spell and the wand movement and more determined by intent and visualisation. Lastly, there were rituals, which Professor Salib firmly stressed they were not to try until NEWT training, at the minimum.

While Hermione had heard all the information before, Professor Salib had a different spin on much of the information in a way that was easily digestible. He did not call on students to answer questions, which was somewhat of a disappointment, because no matter that she was mentally an adult, she still had a fierce desire to prove herself to authority figures.

The lab class had them begin with _Verdillious,_ one of the simplest charms, that was simply used to create green sparks at the end of the wand. Hermione ended up paired off with the Ravenclaw girl she had sat next to in lecture, who introduced herself as Pandora Ollivander. Pandora was polite, if shy, and clearly a classic Ravenclaw - she picked up on the spell in mere minutes. Hermione had to fake putting effort into the spell until others around her had picked up on it. It wouldn’t do to draw too much attention to herself by demonstrating advanced spell work.

At one point, Pandora turned to her to offer advice. “It’s a little more of a jab with your wand right there, see?”

It was frustrating, because Hermione could have done this in her sleep, and here she was having to pretend to be average. Sighing, she performed the correct wand movement and an aggressive shower of green sparks shot out of her wand. The seventh year Ravenclaw supervising the lab class, Griffin Bulstrode, exclaimed in delight. “Wonderful, wonderful. That’s much more flashy than you’d expect on a first try, well done. Miss…?”

“Evans,” Hermione supplied.

“Miss Evans. A point to Slytherin for very precise wandwork and channeling of your magic.”

Well. She could only try so hard to be mediocre, evidently. “Thank you, sir.”

Bulstrode nodded at moved to a different part of the classroom to assist a Slytherin boy she’d yet to meet. There were three lab classes at this time, with a mix of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, with about thirty students in each section. Each was supervised by a sixth or seventh year, with a professor in a nearby office on standby should anything occur. The upper year classes only supervised the first and second years; after that lab classes were solely taught by full-fledged professors. It was competitive to get a teaching assistant position. There were only twelve positions for each subject, with five subjects offering lab classes: Astronomy, Charms, Defence, Potions, and Transfiguration.

Pandora turned to her, wide-eyed. “How did you do that? I did the exact same thing, _and_ I’ve done it several more times than you did, and you got it on the first try! Have you done a lot of magic at home, then?”

“I haven’t done any magic at home, actually. I’m Muggle-raised, you see - my parents were wizards, but I was adopted by Muggles. I have two sisters, one older and one the same age. Lily, the one my age, is actually Muggleborn, so she’s here too. Gryffindor.”

If one were uncharitable, the expression on Pandora’s face could be described as a jealous pout. Hermione gave her the benefit of the doubt and thought of it as a perplexed frown. “That’s just unfair. Don’t tell me that was your first spell?”

Of course it wasn’t, but Hermione couldn’t tell Pandora that. She scratched the side of her head. “It was, actually.”

Pandora sighed, “You should have been in Ravenclaw. Help me with mine, then?” It seemed that no matter the timeline, the sentiment that Hermione should have been in Ravenclaw would be oft-repeated.

As they worked together, Pandora explained that while she was an Ollivander, her branch of the family was a separate branch than the famous Ollivander Wandmakers. She knew a bit more wandlore than the average 11 year old, and would probably do a summer apprenticeship at the shop at one point or another, but would never be expected to make it a career. Ollivanders had been in Ravenclaw without fail for hundreds of years, and her family specialised in Runic work. Pandora knew five languages to varying degrees, because linguistic knowledge helped with learning Ancient Runes.

Hermione had not yet gotten the chance to speak with Severus, because he had arrived to lecture after she was already seated with Pandora. All they had done was briefly smile at each other. He would be either in the same lab section as Rosier or in the third section. She had not even _seen_ Lily, because the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were at completely different ends of the Great Hall. After charms she had Herbology, which did not have separate lab and lecture sections. Instead, Herbology was entirely professor-taught, with it mostly being a lab class interspersed with educational commentary and guidance. This was because Herbology did not have as intense of a theory component to it as the other classes. It was almost entirely a practical class, with very little theory being introduced before NEWT level classes. Her section of Herbology was with the Gryffindors, so she was tentatively hopeful that Lily would be in the same section.

The rest of September went by in a blur. She was somewhat of an outcast in Slytherin, but was not actively picked on by anyone. Severus was, sometimes, in part to his social ineptitude, but more than that the Marauders (not that they called themselves that yet) were merciless. None of them knew enough jinxes to harm each other, but hardly a day went by without them verbally ganging up on him and harassing him. Much to Hermione’s disappointment, Lily mostly turned a blind eye. The sisters talked every Herbology lab, and occasionally at meals, but mostly did not see each other on a regular basis. Lily did not seem to be handling it all that well, but reported that she got along very well with the girls in her dorm - Alice Brown, Dorcas Meadowes , and Marlene McKinnon. James Potter had not yet taken a keen interest in Lily in the way Harry had reported it happening.

Hermione’s only friend in Slytherin besides Severus was Akantha, and by the end of September they had progressed to first names. Slytherin was very formal in that regard; it was considered uncouth to call someone by their first name without formal permission. She had found a fast friend in Pandora, who was sometimes on the eccentric side, but had a sharp mind for every subject, but most especially Charms. The only Gryffindor she was on good terms with other than Lily was Remus Lupin, whom she shared both Transfiguration and Potion labs in. Remus was paralyzingly shy, and seemed to worship the ground his roommates walked on. To that end, he had requested that they keep their friendship under wraps. Hermione had agreed - Slytherins and Gryffindors as a general rule did not get along, and it would not help her standing in her house for a close relationship to get out. The full moon had passed on the first Sunday of term, and Remus had predictably been absent, pleading an upset stomach from the night before. She would go along with the lie, for now.

Her birthday also passed, on the 19th of September, making it a year since she had arrived in the 70s. She had not told any of her new friends about it, so it passed very quietly - some sweets from Lily, well wishes from Severus, and a package from her parents containing a Slytherin scarf that they said they had asked Eileen Snape to purchase in Diagon Alley.

The best part about her friendships is it seemed she and Severus had silently worked out some of their differences that had existed in the Muggle World, now that they were alone in a semi-hostile environment. They were in the same Potions lab together, and it quickly became apparent that he had a natural gift for Potions that she lacked, even with her years of formal schooling on the subject. It was easy to see the brilliance that would eventually result in him become the Hogwarts Potions teacher, but less easy to see the bitterness that Professor Snape in her time had been infamous for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	10. Bridge Formations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found a beta, yay! So hopefully this will start to be a bit more coherent, aha. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting, but better late than never?
> 
> **Content warning in this chapter for child abuse.**

In their Magical Theory Class towards the beginning of term, they had briefly discussed some of the key components of spells. This included a very basic class on Arithmancy - not anything compared to the third year elective, but such that they could have some understanding of the subject matter. Hermione had caught Severus looking up such books in the Arithmancy section and knew that someday, he’d be creating his own spells. She fondly remembered her first attempt at crafting a new spell - the _Point Me_ she’d taught to Harry in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament. Then, life had gotten overwhelmingly busy and she hadn’t continued her efforts. This time, she had an abundance of free time, and planned to do some spell crafting. Thus, in the months since first year had started, Hermione had started doing some reading in the more advanced sections of the library on spell crafting, with her book covers carefully disguised as more elementary subjects.

For Hermione, the highlight of fall term was her budding friendship with Remus. They frequently studied together in one of the back rooms of the library. James and Sirius only ventured in the library to look up pranks, and even that was a rarity, so their hidden friendship was relatively safe if they drew a curtain over the door. Hermione was all too aware that sometimes older students got up to illicit activities in that room, but so far she and Remus had yet to have any unpleasant encounters on that particular front.

It was on one such occasion, a week after the full moon in December, that Hermione decided it was time to confront Remus about his lycanthropy. Obviously it wasn’t a problem for her, but it was wearing on her to keep pretending cluelessness when she was all too aware of where he went every month.

“Remus?” She began.

“Hmm?” He replied absentmindedly, entrenched in an astronomy book. Hermione was pleased to have found that Remus, although he did not share her particular attention to astronomy, at least understood why she found it an engaging subject.

“I’ve noticed you get sick every month. Is everything alright?” She had decided she’d try to ease him into it.

His relaxed demeanour abruptly vanished. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine. I just get sick easily, that’s all.” He did his best to keep his tone light, but there was still something strained in his voice.

“Every full moon?”

Remus hastily stood up and began collecting the rolls of parchment he had spread out around him as he worked on star charts. “Is it every full moon? I can’t say I’ve noticed.”

“Remus, I know.” She did her best to keep her tone as even as possible, in an effort not to scare one of her closest friends away.

“Know what? There’s nothing to know.” It was clear now that he was one step away from full fledged panic mode, and Hermione felt bad for having driven him to it, but if they could get past this conversation, she thought Remus would do better for having a friend to be able to confide in and it would have been worth it.

“I know you’re a werewolf,” she said calmly.

He laughed nervously and began edging to the door, ignoring the rest of his work. “That’s absurd.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, Remus. I’ve known for the past month, and I haven’t treated you any different. I don’t care.” The first time around, when she had found out in her third year, she had cared briefly out of a fear of the unknown. Although she hadn’t know _this_ Remus for five years, as she had his older counterpart her in original timeline, she was long past caring about his lycanthropy.

As he sagged to the floor, the ruse abandoned, he managed to get out a muffled “How?” that sounded so sad her heart sank. She brushed aside the pang of guilt she felt at being the source of his current discomfort. 

“I put two and two together and got four. You’re one of my best friends here, and I’m very observant.” She rose from her chair and walked over to where he was curled up, knees to his chest and head in his hands. Carefully, as though dealing with a skittish animal, Hermione rested her hands on his shoulders. He flinched, ever so slightly. “Remus, look at me, please.”

He did, slowly, his amber eyes meeting her brown ones. “I promise you, Remus, that I don’t think any less of you because of it. And I’ll keep it to myself. But if you ever need someone to talk to about it, I’ll be here.” Hermione had always cared deeply for Harry and Ron, when they had been her best friends and the people she was closest with in the entire world. Remus however hadn’t had that experience. She hadn’t gotten a good sense of what his home life was like, but it did not seem to be sunshine and roses. It was her hope that over time she would be able to impress on him that he was worth caring about, and that his lycanthropy didn’t define him.

He nodded, something in his gaze still fragile and broken. “I thought I’d be able to keep everybody from finding out.”

“Everybody but me,” she grinned at him.

Tentatively, he smiled back at her. “Everybody but you,” he agreed.

Hermione extended a hand to him, helping pull him back to his feet from his involuntary seat by the door. “Let’s get back to that Astronomy work, then. I’m still not quite clear on how the moon affects spells with feminine energy…”

That was one of the intricacies of magic that she still found wholeheartedly delightful. There was a small class of spells with emotional descriptors, including the Patronus Charm, that were deemed “feminine” spells, and were correlated with having heightened effects during the full moon. Many of these spells involved highly emotional Magics. Interestingly, there didn’t appear to be a solar or masculine counterpart. Wizards still weren’t sure how this all worked, exactly, but the results had been consistently documented throughout Wizarding history, going back to some of the earliest astronomers. There were also certain constellations that when visible impacted various forms of spells.

After that, their friendship took on a more authentic feel. Hermione still had a lion’s share of secrets, that if she were to tell anyone, would instantly get her locked inside a psychiatric hospital, or the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's. But Remus’ secrets were gone, and that made their friendship come more naturally. He asked her, once, if she thought his three Gryffindor roommates would figure his secret out. She knew they would eventually, and told him as much, although not in as frank terms. That said, she advised him that they could figure it out in their own time. Much as she wasn’t a big fan of the other three boys, she had to admit they were intelligent people. Sirius in particular, although he was a bit of a prejudiced arsehole. Eventually between the three of them, she thought it likely that they would manage to figure out that Remus was a werewolf, but it wasn’t an immediate concern. Hermione just hoped that by the time they did figure it out, that Sirius had gotten over himself.

Although Severus and Lily were still very close, Hermione had become better friends with him by sheer virtue of both being in the same house. They were both looked on rather poorly by the rest of Slytherins: no-name halfbloods at best, and Mudbloods at worst. Hermione had already gotten into a brief duel with one of the other Slytherin first years, a female Nott, who had been steadily ramping up the insults on her parentage. There were plenty of insults, but Nott had been especially bad. While Hermione wasn’t generally a fan of violence, there were times - especially in the Magical and Slytherin worlds - where fighting back was some level of necessary. She’d left Nott (whose first name she honestly couldn’t remember - something that began with a B) with a bald head and with an enlarged nose, and the other girl had since stopped bothering her for the most part. After that, the insults had calmed down somewhat, and Hermione no longer got tripping jinxes sent her way in the hallways every day.

Severus had it worse, because he didn’t have the means to defend himself as well as she did. Once, she’d tentatively offered to jinx some of the worst offenders, but Severus had muttered something darkly about not needing a girl to defend him, and stalked off. Sniffing her nose at the blatant sexism, Hermione had let it rest. Worse for Severus, it wasn’t just the blood purists in Slytherin, but also James, Sirius, and Peter in Gryffindor. They had started ganging up on Severus in the hallways, usually with words but sometimes with minor jinxes. Severus was not well liked, and admittedly was a little lacking with charisma, but the Gryffindor boys had apparently taken a distinct dislike to him.

The day before they boarded the train back to Cokeworth, Hermione was talking to Severus about going home. “You are coming home with us, aren’t you, Severus?” They were in the Slytherin Common Room, but early in the morning, so there weren’t many people in the immediate vicinity.

He hesitated. “Yes,” he eventually said. “I didn’t sign up on the lists to stay, at any point. But depending on how it goes, this might be the last one I go home for.”

“You know you’re always welcome at our place, if yours gets too much.” And he was. The Evans had made that much clear. Severus was, after all, Lily’s best friend, even if he wasn’t the most charming of fellows. He wasn’t likeable in the traditional sense, but once you got past the prickliness, he was a decent sort. Their discussions mostly revolved around school - which, she mused sadly, was the theme of most of her friendships currently. It was hard to personally connect with students who were mentally seven years younger than her. Severus though, like many traumatised children, was mature for his age. And he was very, very smart. Hermione was smart, yes, but most of her success came from books and an intense work ethic. Severus was one of those people who glided through school seemingly without effort, _and_ he had a relatively decent work ethic - at least when it came to things that interested him.

Hermione wasn’t looking forward to going back home. Here at Hogwarts, everyone had known her for the same amount of time she had known them, with the exception of Severus and Lily. At home, she was expected to be whomever she’d been before the current her got here, and she still didn’t have a good sense of who the before-Hermione had been. That wasn’t anything she could disclose to Severus. At home, she had felt like she was play acting in someone else’s skin, or like at any moment she would make a terrible mistake that would reveal she was actually an imposter.

When they got back to Cokeworth, the holidays passed for the most part uneventfully. The highlight of excitement came when Severus showed up to the Evans’ on Boxing Day with a black eye. Catherine spent the part of an hour fussing over him, but he stubbornly refused to give her any information. Lily tiptoed around the topic in the way of an 11 year-old who didn’t know what to say or how to feel.

Hermione, on the other hand, managed to find him alone to talk to him about the subject. Severus was out in the Evans’ backyard, sitting out on the patio by himself. Bracing herself, Hermione took a seat next to him. “Want to talk about it?” She honestly wondered what she would say if he did want to talk about it, though. Emotional conversations weren’t usually her strong suit.

He shook his head brusquely. “Not really. Sometimes my dad makes me wonder, though. About whether the Slytherins are all right about Muggles being inferior and brutish.”

Inwardly, Hermione grimaced. So this was how it had started, where the road to Snape the Death Eater began. “You know that’s not true. My parents are perfectly wonderful people. So are other Muggles you know. And I know your Mum isn’t a Muggle, but how about her?

“Mum might as well be a Muggle, half the time. She hardly does anything, she never stands up to Dad. Half of the time it’s like living with a ghost.” His tone was clinically detached, almost as though this was a reality he pretended to not be living in.

Hermione nodded sympathetically. “About your dad - there’s bound to be rubbish mixed in with every population. For example, in Hogwarts - Black and Potter. And a decent number of Slytherins, I’ve noticed.”

Severus scowled. “I don’t get what their problem is,” he grumbled, referring to the budding Marauders, “I never start anything, it’s always them who begin the fights.”

“They’re bullies,” Hermione pointed out. He nodded in agreement, but his face clearly conveyed that he had no desire to speak on the matter any further, so she let it drop.

Despite her protests, he went back home later that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at my mostly empty tumblr, the-enbywholived
> 
> Comments/kudos/bookmarks really make my day and help me stay motivated to keep going with this, so those are always appreciated!


	11. Cutting Conversation

When they boarded the train back to Hogwarts a week later, Severus didn’t have any new bruises that showed, but he appeared to have withdrawn even further into himself. Over break, Hermione had talked to Lily regarding the Marauders - mainly James and Sirius, but to a lesser extent Peter and Remus. Severus regarded them all as equally complicit, because Peter and Remus never tattled on James and Sirius even if they didn’t usually participate in the altercations. Hermione knew it wasn’t that simple - they all shared a dormitory together, and rocking the boat could have unpleasant complications, but something had to be done. In her opinion, it was likely that if James and Sirius were to lay off, Peter and Remus would immediately desist. She and Lily had agreed to talk to the four boys on the train ride.

Idly, Hermione wondered when the nickname ‘The Marauders’ would become well known, and also when the Map would be created. She had some idea of where to start when it came to her own map, but it would be an extensive project requiring a good deal of charms and runic structures she was still unfamiliar with. 

On the train, the Marauders were all sitting together, as expected. Lily opened the door hesitantly. “Hi,” she began with a tentative wave. Per Hermione’s understanding, Lily wasn’t close with the boys, but they shared a number of classes together, so were on civil terms. “I hope you all had a happy Christmas. Listen, Hermione and I wanted to talk to you, if that’s alright? Could we come in?”

James eyed Lily with admiration, whereas Sirius had that sort of expression on his face as though he had smelled something particularly unpleasant. “Sure,” James agreed, patting the seat next to him in the compartment. “What about? And it’s Yule, actually - the Magical world doesn’t celebrate Christmas the way Muggles do.”

When Lily entered the compartment, Hermione became more visible, the colour of her tie clearly marking her as a Slytherin to the four boys. She stepped in, closing the compartment door behind her to avoid any unfortunate prefect intervention or the opportunity for rumor spreading. Holiday traditions forgotten, Sirius blurted, “Who’s the snake?” while jerking his head in her direction. She had Potions and Transfiguration lectures with all of the Gryffindors, since it was a Gryffindor-Slytherin pairing, but she wasn’t with any of the Marauders other than Remus in her lab classes, so she hadn’t interacted with them at all.

On the figurative sidelines, Peter looked on with the rabid excitement of someone who wished they had a large bucket of popcorn. Remus appeared to slowly be trying to become one with the bench.

Lily drew herself up righteously. “That’s my sister,” she sharply said. “Her name’s Hermione. Hermione, this is Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus.” The introductions were unnecessary for Hermione, but perhaps beneficial to the less polite Marauders.

Remus managed to give the girls a semi-warm smile, whereas the other three boys all looked to be on the verge of outright hostility. 

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” drawled Hermione in her best I-couldn’t-care’-less voice. 

Nostrils flaring, James bit out, clearly taking issue with her blasé attitude, “What do you want?”

“We’re here to talk about Severus,” Hermione said with an all too fake smile. “He’s a family friend of ours, you see - both of us have known him since we were little. And I don’t like the way you treat him. It’s one thing to not be friendly, but ganging up on him four on one without provocation is downright bullying. So, consider this your official warning that next time you pick on him you’ll have me to deal with.”

For all that Lily had been reluctantly in favor of this conversation, viewing some form of intervention as necessary, the redhead now looked inordinately uncomfortable. Hermione hated to say it, but her adopted sister was a far better person than Hermione herself would ever be. Lily was just  _ nice _ with every fiber of her being. Unlike Hermione, who was too much of a realist, Lily had thought that this conversation would go relatively smoothly, and she appeared to be taken aback at how quickly things had gone sour. 

Sirius scoffed. “Please, like we need to worry about you? You’re a Mu-Muggleborn. I doubt you know any damaging spells, whereas we’ve all grown up in Magical families so surely know more. Besides, we’re all first years.” He already had an ego, probably ingrained since birth, that Hermione had come to associate with Blacks. Unlike that familial trait, he was impulsive beyond belief - a fact which had gotten him into considerable trouble in her timeline.

Quickly, Hermione drew her wand from a pocket in her robes - she really needed to get a wand sheath - and leveled it at him. “One, I’m not Muggleborn, as I keep telling everyone. I’m adopted. And two, care to bet?” She smirked. Even though her magical prowess was far beyond what would be expected of her age, she didn’t have significant concerns over any reports of her skill getting out - the boys wouldn’t want to admit they’d been bested by one Slytherin girl their same age. Besides, it had been too long since she’d been able to show off a fraction of her true abilities.

As though signalled, everyone else in the compartment drew their wands as well, including Lily, although she looked extraordinarily reluctant to use it. Lily was not a violent person, by nature. Sirius eyed Hermione with new wariness. “I don’t fight girls,” he grit out, “Even when they’re unbearably obnoxious and think far too highly of themselves.”

Hermione scoffed. “You’re one to talk about thinking too highly of himself. But there’s no need to be chauvinistic - if that’s even a word you know. In simpler terms, I assure you that there’s no need to treat us any differently because of our gender. Unless, of course, you’re scared.” 

His Gryffindor pride thereby insulted, Sirius shot off a jelly-legs jinx, James quickly following it with a leg-locker curse, while the three bystanders in the compartment looked on with apprehension. The jelly-legs jinx went wide, and she dodged out of the way of the leg-locker before swiftly casting a full-body bind on Sirius. His eyes wide in surprise, he fell to the ground with an alarming sounding thud. Hermione had just leveled her wand at James to do the same to him, but it appeared that he had grasped that they were, perhaps, outmatched despite greater numbers. James held his hands up in the air, although his wand was still held in his right hand, making the universal sign of surrender perhaps less submissive. 

“Drop it, Potter,” Hermione ordered, with an authority belonging to her 18 year old self instead of her current, younger body. Had she wanted, she could just disarm James, but some malicious part of her wanted to see his willing surrender.

He was obviously reluctant, but there weren’t many good options available to him. With bad grace, he dropped his wand to the floor. Hermione summoned it back to her, not wanting to get cursed in the back. She smiled, although there wasn’t any warmth to it. “Excellent. Well. My original point stands - leave Severus alone. If none of you know the counter-curse to fix Black, it should wear off in about ten minutes, so don’t be overly alarmed.” 

Mission accomplished, although not exactly in the manner they had planned, she stepped out of the compartment. She threw his wand back in the compartment, aiming for his face. Lily hesitantly followed. “You shouldn’t have attacked them like that,” the redhead hissed, directing her frustration and fear over what had happened towards her sister. “We’re going to be in so much trouble. And I have to deal with living with them, you know. And since when can you case  _ third year  _ jinxes in your sleep?”

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione soothed her sister. “You didn’t cast anything. In fact, you were hardly part of the confrontation at all. And now hopefully they’ll have reason to leave Severus alone.” Here she winked at Lily, “As for third year jinxes, I wasn’t sleeping. A girl’s got to have her secrets.”

Together, the sisters walked back to the compartment that they were sharing with Severus. Pandora Ollivander, Hermione’s Ravenclaw friend from Charms who was a bit of a loner, was also in the compartment.

Severus frowned at them. “Where’d you go? That was awfully long for a trip to the loo.”

Hermione waved her hand at him in an effort to appear offhanded It wouldn’t have flied with a lot of their Slytherin housemates, but it helped that Severus trusted her. “I got caught up talking with one of my roommates, and it’s hard enough to stay on their good sides as it is without ignoring them.” One of the first rules of lying, she had decided, was to never name specific people if you could avoid it, because it became all too simple for someone to fact check that particular falsehood.

Nodding, Severus broke out a familiar deck of cards. “Exploding Snap, then?”

When they got back to the castle and were settled in their separate dorms, and Hermione actually talked with her roommates, she was regaled with tales of Yule presents. The girls were all Pureblood, and from relatively well off families, so there was a considerable gap in gifts received. All of them had received some expensive jewellery - not gaudy or ostentatious jewellery, because they were young enough that that would be ‘unseemly’ - but fancy enough that was considerably outside the range of what Hermione and Lily had received from Catherine and Robert Evans. Although for Muggles it was common to pierce girls’ ears when they were were young, in the Wizarding World, it was considered uncouth for a girl to have pierced ears before entering Hogwarts, so Alexandra Wilkes and Linnea Parkinson had both come back with gems glittering in their ears. Hermione distinctly remembered being ten years old the first time and feeling like the odd one out because her parents hadn’t allowed her to get hers pierced. 

Hermione’s relationship with her roommates was civil, but not exactly friendly. There was persistent sense of not being included, which bothered her more than it should. She had never been skilled at making female friends, but with her roommates it was more of a matter of politics and blood purity than any clash of personality. For once, though, they were making an attempt to include her. 

“What about you, Hermione?” queried Alexandra. 

“Hmm? Oh. I don’t have my ears pierced.”

“Not that,” scoffed Linnea, “We can see that. How was your Yule?”

“Muggles don’t celebrate Yule,” observed Akantha in a rare display of cultural competency, “They have some bastardised version. Christmas, I think?”

“Er, yeah, Christmas. It was fine.” Hermione could have, if she wanted, gone into detail on the tangible coolness between Petunia and the two witches, or the fact that Catherine and Robert were obsessed with Magic but had zero comprehension of it. But none of that would make sense to the Pureblood witches she was surrounded by, so she stayed silent and let the conversation pull away from her again.


	12. Unknown Enmity

As January rolled into February and then March, Hermione began to realize she had a problem. Well, two problems, really, but they were of the same nature. The first and primary problem was that she was developing feelings for Remus. This was a dilemma for a number of reasons, but first and foremost in her head was that she still usually felt like an 18 year old, and Remus was only just turning 12. Yes, biologically they were the same age, but she still felt like a bloody pervert. 

Sometimes, she thought her brain forgot it was an 18 years old girl trapped in a 12 year old body. Some of this was explainable - she was, after all, going through a second puberty, and hormones could do crazy things. And of course, everyone treated her like a child, because she looked like one. A couple of the professors looked at her as some kind of child prodigy, particularly Flitwick and Davis, but she was widely regarded as beyond her years by all teachers.

Ignoring the very large ethical dilemma of ages, there was also the significant fact that she was on what could politely be described as  _ very bad  _ terms with Sirius and James, who were Remus’ closest friends in Hogwarts. Sirius and James loathed Hermione. Some of it was deserved. After al, she had cursed Sirius, albeit only after he attacked her first. But the enmity had festered, and now it was a frequent occurrence for them to try cursing her back in hallways. She suspected that in the original timeline, Severus had been their target, which hadn’t exactly ended well. While she wasn’t thrilled to be the new victim, Hermione was considerably better prepared to deal with that role - not that victim was a precise term, because she gave better than she got. When she was 12 the first time, Ron’s hot-and-cold friendship had affected her strongly, often to the point of tears. Now, she could see the immaturity that James and Sirius portrayed, and she usually felt emotionally distant from it.

The second problem, also of a romantic nature, was that she thought Barty Crouch, Jr. was slowly developing a crush on her. Occasionally they sat together at meals - both of them were outcasts of a sort among Slytherins - Hermione because of her blood status, and Barty because his father was prominent in the DMLE - and they got on well enough.. Barty Jr., being an older student was beneficial to her plans though, and he had insights towards Slytherin house she frequently missed, so the relationship was beneficial; until his cheeks started flushing when she laughed and he started racing ahead of her to open doors for her. 

Barty Crouch Jr.  wasn’t evil - after all, he was barely a teenager. But the thought what he had done to the Longbottoms in her timeline meant Hermione had a vague sense of repulsion associated with him. Strangely, this wasn’t at all the case with Severus - while he had been a Death Eater, he had defected early on, and she knew him too well as a person to think so poorly of him. Severus’ upbringing had been the product of a myriad of dysfunctions that she had yet to scratch the surface on. 

Hermione had never had many admirers in school. The admirers she had experienced in her first timeline were terrible references for how to let your meal companion down gently. Victor, Ron, McLaggen - none of them were situations she wished to repeat. There were problems in each example, but the overarching complaint had been a lack of common ground in interests. Hermione was an intellectual, and she needed academic, thought-provoking conversation. Such dialogue had been sorely lacking in all of her romantic dalliances. 

It all boiled over on a Tuesday. It had been a long day - she’d had double Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, which meant James and Sirius. After dinner, she’d gotten up from her seat only for Crouch to ask if Hermione wanted him to walk her down to the common room and help her with her (admittedly heavy) bookbag. Hermione would freely admit she hadn’t handled her response well. “Would you just - stop that?” The sentence directed at Crouch came out of her mouth without her brain’s permission, and bordered more on a shriek than was rightfully proper.

He looked at her with bewilderment written on his face. “Stop...what?”

Hermione through her hands up in the air. “That. All of this. The door opening, the compliments, the offers to help me study, the constant accompaniment places - all of it,” she grit out, “I am perfectly capable of functioning independently, even though everyone seems to forget that when it comes to girls!” Her voice broke with frustration. 1972 was, admittedly, very lacking when it came to gender equality.

As her time in Slytherin continued, her ability to be subtle had continually approved. But tonight she was tired, frustrated, and just fed up with life in general. In this particular moment though, she was more fed up at Crouch that the rest of it. Her frustration made her capability to be tactful nonexistent, even though the burgeoning Slytherin in her screamed at her for this break in persona.

They had received some odd glances from students around them, but neither of them were people the rest of Slytherin paid all that much attention to on a daily basis. “I - I never said you’re not capable of doing things yourself, Evans.” His tone was trying to be soothing, but was too awkward to fully achieve that effect.

“No, but you sure act like it,” she spat. 

“I compliment you because I think you’re an interesting person, and worth paying attention to! I offer to carry your bags because you insist on carrying around enough books that it would make a professional beater wince!” Crouch’s cheeks were flushed crimson. “Not because I think you’re a  _ lesser  _ person, or not independent or any of that! Because I’m trying to be friendly, because you still won’t call me Barty despite the fact that I’ve asked you to twice and we sit together at at least one meal a day. Is that so hard to understand?”

Realizing the ridiculousness of the situation, Hermione abruptly deflated. She shook her head, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

Crouch peered at her anxiously. “There’s no chance you were hit with a jinx or anything, is there? Some of them do that - make someone really irritable, but they only last a little bit.” His tone was hopeful, like he hoped there was an explanation for her erratic behaviour. 

“I’d have noticed if someone hit me with a curse, wouldn’t I?” She did her best to affect nonchalance although anxiety gnawed at her stomach.

“Not necessarily. There’s a charm to see any emotional magic affecting the caster, but it’s NEWT level work, I don’t know it,” he replied. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately, given the circumstances), Hermione did know it, although she’d forgotten about its existence until he’d mentioned it. Given the advanced spell work though, she didn’t want to cast it in front of witnesses. She was doing her best to hold back her true ability from everyone else, anticipating that being underestimated might come in handy someday. 

Thinking fast, she replied, “It’s okay - I’ll just - I’m sorry I reacted so harshly…I’m just going to go, real quick, I’ll be right back,” she blurted, rushing out of the Great Hall. She managed to sneak a look over at the Gryffindor table to eye the Marauders. All four of them were looking at her, which wasn’t especially unusual, but she couldn’t read anything from their facial expressions. Although a decent number of Slytherins disliked her, James and Sirius were her only immediate suspects, given their ongoing clashes.

Once she made it to the bathroom outside the Great Hall, she locked herself in a stall and pulled out her wand. “ _ Emoveritas, _ ” she cast in a whisper. It was a Healing level diagnostic, and manifested in the same way standard diagnostic charms, which was why it was particularly hard to cast. The spell glowed gold, indicating a spell which heightened emotions. Green indicated emotions that were being suppressed, and if there were no effects, there would be no colour but just a faint flash of light. 

Diagnostic charms of all types were tricky, because they required a particular energy and mood to cast, but also because once you cast them it took skill to figure out what they actually meant. Some basic charms gave quantitative values, such as a number for a pulse or some very basic laboratory values. Most spells though simply manifested in colors and patterns, and reading them took practice and usually a reference book.

She twisted her wand in a spiral pattern, to get new data, and a new display of colors popped up - blue with pink tinges. Sighing, she cancelled the spell after memorising the pattern. Unfortunately she didn’t fully remember what all the colours meant - each combination corresponded to a different spell, and it was very difficult to memorise every combination. Usually the only people to able to read this type of spell fluently without a reference were Mind-Healers.

However, the Hogwarts had the best collection of books in the country, presumably including a book dedicated to the Emotional Truthfinder spell. First, she had to go back to dinner and calm Crouch down. Hermione didn’t want to be on bad terms with him, and she wanted to make sure he had taken her at her word that she had just stepped out to unwind. The nice thing about Slytherins though was that they knew when to pry and when to leave things be - Gryffindors just pushed for information regardless of what the situation actually called for. Sure, Crouch would probably know that something was up, but it was unlikely that he would demand answers the way Harry or Ron would have.

Afterwards she rushed to the library. Curfew was still a ways off, but based on Hermione’s experiences in both timelines, the library tended to be empty immediately after dinner - people usually at least thirty minutes with friends before digging down to study, except for the most studious of the Ravenclaws. She made her way to the Healing section - not an area she spent much time in - and pulled out the book she was looking for. 

The tome was basically a dictionary, except instead of words, it translated colours and patterns into curses and charms. What Hermione found was...unsettling. The blue and pink pattern indicated a Disagreement Hex - an OWL level spell that she highly doubted any first year other than her could cast. That ruled out James and Sirius, the two most likely culprits. Unless, of course, the pair had somehow managed to learn it to cast it themselves. Hermione had heard secondhand how motivated the Marauders could be, and wouldn’t put it entirely past them to learn a complex spell just to curse their main rival, but it was highly unlikely. She thought it was more likely that either they had roped an older student into doing the spell in them, or perhaps given the subtle nature of the attack, that some upper year in Slytherin had taken note of her. Which was...distinctly unsettling. 

She attempted to subtly quiz Remus on it the next day to explore whether he had heard of any mischief from his housemates. “How’s everything going with your roommates?”

“It’s fine. Same old same old - James and Sirius have been up to their usual mischief. Apparently they’re planning to try some big prank during the Easter break as a trial run for bigger and better things later down the road.” He was currently writing an essay for charms, and his distant voice indicated he was focused on academics rather than discussion.

“Any idea what the prank is going to be? I’m staying here, so I’d quite like to know.”

“So are they. I’ll be going home, though - full moon is on March 29th, so I’ll be able to spend it at home which might be nice. Means dealing with my dad, though. But Sirius refuses to go home - his family’s kind of terrible, you might know - and James didn’t want to let him stay by himself.”

Her last question still hadn’t been answered, and Hermione tried to direct him back. “So, you don’t know what it is?”

“Oh, sorry. No, not really. I think something involving swapping out shampoos in the showers? But I don’t know what it’s supposed to do, or what houses it’s going to be targeting.”

Hermione sighed internally. She needed to know for sure who had cursed her, as the way she reacted to the Maraurders would be extremely different to how she would react to an older Slytherin Housemate. She continued to finish a paragraph on her homework, to give time within subjects and not allow Remus to think her rambling questions correlated to each other, before she tried a different tactic. 

“So I got in a fight with Barty yesterday.” The second year had finally persuaded her into calling him by his first name. Hermione could tell she finally had Remus’ attention when his quill stilled on the parchment.

Remus nodded. “I saw. You were kind of...loud. What happened?” His curiosity seemed to be genuine concern, as he knew that she normally wouldn’t react so strongly, especially in public.

“I don’t know what got into me. I was just very irritable, and then one minute later I was fine.” She put confusion and concern into her voice, fiddling with her hair to try and relay her nervousness. 

“That’s weird,” he commented off-handedly, “But I’m glad you’re back to normal now.”

It was worth noting that Remus was not a very good liar. He could lie easily enough about the full moons, but struggled with lying on the spot, particularly to people he was fond of. Hermione believed that if he had known anything he wasn’t saying, she’d be able to pick up on something not being right.

Hermione decided it was time to give up this line of questioning. Either he didn’t know anything, or for whatever reason, he had chosen to lie to her about it. 

By the end of the week, Hermione was still no closer to determining who had cast the Disagreement Hex on her. Not for the first time, she wished she had Harry’s invisibility cloak, which would make eavesdropping much easier. Hermione wasn’t certain if even James had it yet - there hadn’t been overt evidence of them sneaking around. Perhaps, she thought, they just hadn’t been caught yet.


	13. First Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh sorry this is so late!

Spring break came and went, and Hermione was no closer to figuring out who had cast the Disagreement Hex on her. She had attempted to do some subtle digging into the matter - subtlety and Slytherin machinations were still a new process to her, but she was starting to get the hang of it - but had come up dry. Her conflicts with James and Sirius had become a normal part of her day, and she was increasingly walking around with a shield charm at hand. . As Remus had said, James and Sirius had indeed planned a prank for spring break. Thankfully, this means they stopped harassing her for a bit as they worked on their project.

The boys had managed to create a specialised potion and snuck it into the male shower systems of all Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw first and second year dorms. All the younger year boys ended up with crimson coloured and gold glitter filled hair. Slytherin was furious, but the other two houses took it in stride. Hufflepuffs were an easygoing sort who took joy in simple fun, and Ravenclaws found it an exercise in academic debate - no one was quite sure how the glitter had been incorporated in. Usually, changing hair color was done with potions, but no potion would be compatible with having glitter in it, and the potion would probably end up violently exploding. If it hadn’t been brewed into the potion, it would have to have been a charm of some sort, but she had no idea what type of spell it would be.

Hermione, too, found it to be academically interesting. Usually, potions and charms did not mix well, and occasionally had disastrous consequences. The Marauders were working truly beyond their years. If they were all to apply themselves, Hermione thought they could be quite high achieving, but aside from Remus they preferred to goof off instead. The bookworm found it inherently unsettling to view potential that she viewed as wasted.

When everyone came back from spring break, Hermione became familiar with more aspects of Wizarding culture. It turned out that 1970s Wizarding Britain had a holiday that was mysteriously missing in 1990s Wizarding Britain. In and of itself, this wasn’t wholly surprising. There were many holidays that were more prevalent than she was accustomed to. Generally speaking, the Purebloods followed Celtic Pagan holidays - Samhain and Yule she had already seen, to an extent. It was one reason why Muggleborns were looked down upon. The fact that many Muggleborns refused to celebrate Wizarding holidays that had been traditional for countless centuries, instead celebrating Christian holidays, did not sit well with many of the Grey and Dark Wizarding families. Even the Light families - like the Potters, as she’d seen with James - celebrated the old holidays, although at least those families they didn’t turn up their noses at Muggle and Christian holidays. 

When she had first been exposed to the Wizarding World as an 11 year old, people didn’t talk about the War much, especially around children. If it was spoken of at all, it was in hushed tones and veiled references; nothing outright was ever said. Growing up, Hermione hadn’t realised the full horrors of the Wizarding War until she was on the run in what would have been her 7th year. From this perspective, in 1972, the full loss in population seemed much more apparent. Many of her schoolmates were from relatively prominent Pureblood families, but in the 1990s, those families had completely died out as a result of the extensive bloodshed. There were many more students at Hogwarts, and Wizarding customs were more prevalent, to a degree she’d never been able to appreciate before. It was her understanding that Grindelwald’s war in the 1940s had had a similar striking effect on losing a great deal of Magical Beings. The Wizarding World by the time she had entered it in 1991 had been a shadow of what it had once been.

The holiday that was completely new to her fell on April 10th, and celebrated Merlin’s birthday. In the Muggle world, Merlin was regarded as a mythical figure, although perhaps one who had a grain of truth far back in history. To Wizards, Merlin was regarded as some sort of lesser deity. There were books written in his hand, and books written by people who had personally met him. Merlin had lived in very close proximity to the Founders; some accounts rumored he had tutored at least one or even all of them, but there were no concrete facts backing that up. He was the last of the Celtic Druids, who as a group had had a profound effect on the very fabric of Magic. 

Before the Druids, Magic had been wild and functioned very similarly to how accidental magic happened in children, except the tendency to have magical outbursts didn’t fade with age. According to oral histories, later written down, the Druids had worked a ritual than contained Magic and allowed it to be channeled through wands or other implements. Some people speculated that this ritual had impacted the fall of the Roman Empire. Regardless of the exact line between fact and legend - Merlin was a Big Deal in the Wizarding World, so the fact that he had his own holiday made some amount of sense. Hermione could only speculate as to why the holiday had fallen into obscurity by the time she entered the Wizarding World.

The holiday was traditionally celebrated by fasting all day - water was allowed, but for healthy individuals who chose to follow the customs, no food was permitted to be eaten until after sundown. At sundown, there was a large feast. At Hogwarts, the sumptuous meal rivaled even that of the Welcoming Feast. Hermione was told by her roommates that in Pureblood families, it was traditional to spend the evening recounting tales of magical prowess of their ancestors. Linnea Parkinson and Alexandra Wilkes had both defrosted towards her, though purely as a result of close proximity rather than any actual fondness. They were both purebloods, although the Wilkes family wasn’t a member of the Sacred 28. 

The evening produced some interesting stories - all of her roommates had extensive tales on their families, with the Parkinsons having family stories that dated back to the time of Tudor England. Perhaps the most fascinating reveal of the night was the conversation about Oliver Cromwell, who had apparently been a wizard. That was a shock in and of itself, but more surprising was the knowledge that his reign was the trigger for the International Statute of Secrecy. 

Although the Statute hadn’t been established until over three decades after Cromwell’s death, the groundwork for the law was laid very soon following his passing. Slowly, Magicals withdrew from Muggle society, or in other cases, integrated among them while hiding their knowledge. Many Muggles were obliviated, or in more complex cases, had Tongue-Tying curses placed on them that would prohibit them from speaking about Magic to anyone else. It was in this fashion that Muggles had retained some elements of folklore, such as unicorns, while completely bastardizing many other aspects. For example, mermaids - the Muggle version described, sensual women, but Magical Merpeople in Britain were not limited to one gender, or exactly aesthetically attractive.

All in all, by the end of the evening, Hermione knew two things: one, having Binns as a teacher was doing Wizarding Britain a grave disservice. And two, she needed to see what information the library had on history. Although Hermione practically knew the contents of  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ by heart, she had not looked much beyond the history of the school in her first timeline. She was surprised how rich Wizarding culture and history was, and she wanted to delve deeper into the subject.

When exams season came up, in June, Hermione reflected that it was the least stressful round of exams she had experienced in her entire life. The curriculum was very similar to what she had already spent years learning, so there was no need to spend time studying for tests. Instead, she devoted her time to other pursuits. 

The highest risk activity she involved herself was the task of creating a stash of potions. Funding towards this, and other illicit activities, came from tutoring the other Slytherins in her year. It might’ve been unusual for her to teach students who were the exact same age as he, but it came to be universally acknowledged that Hermione had a talent for knowing all of the answers, all of the time, and seemingly without lifting a finger. Combined with jinxing the first year Nott, and her ongoing skirmishes with James and Sirius, some people in the lowest three years began to ask her for advice regarding hexes and counter-hexes for Defense Against the Dark Arts projects.

Although some potions had a short shelf life, or were volatile if not used quickly, the majority of potions lasted over five years if they were properly made. To this end, she created a supply of potions. These potions included Veritaserum, Polyjuice, a couple choice poisons, Draught of Living Death, a large amount of Calming Draught, and a number of other options she deemed could come in handy in an emergency.

Being more astute than her previous timeline, Hermione had taken the appropriate precautions.  Hermione had debated using the Room of Requirement as a home base. However, the Room was on the 7th floor, and on the opposite end of the castle from the Slytherin Common Room. It was too far to trek on a regular basis, and she was concerned that eventually people would notice and question her absence. 

However, she was considerably more skilled and a bit more wily than her second-year self had been when she made Polyjuice in the girls’ toilets, and had outfitted a room to her purposes She’d found an abandoned classroom deep in the recesses of the East Wing, on the second floor. In preparation, she’d warded the room extensively: first with multitudes of variations on Notice-Me-Not spells so as to keep anyone from questioning it in the first place, and then followed by a number of violent spells if anyone tried to break in using force. Will all the protections around the room, he stored most of the potions there, aside from a couple Calming Draughts she kept in her trunk. In many ways, she was gearing up for the War to come.

The potions were time consuming, but not especially difficult after having done NEWT level potions in her first timeline. Hermione’s harder projects included creating a map similar to the one the Marauders would one day have, and beginning to work on her Animagus transformation. Given her continual disagreement with James and Sirius, if they had a map and therefore a valuable resource she did not, life could become rapidly become very difficult. It would also be beneficial to figure out a way that she could stay off of the Marauder’s Map once it was made, but she didn’t have the faintest clue where to start regarding the magical logistics, so it was one of the various things she planned to research over the summer.

Although becoming an Animagus also had an unfortunate association with the Marauders, it was too valuable a skill to pass up, depending on what her form was. Hermione hoped to have something that was discreet enough to go unnoticed in most situations, although the idea of being a beetle or the likes was mildly distasteful. Most of the beginning stages of the Animagus transformation were entirely mental, and addressed meditation and a strong sense of self-knowledge. Hermione was planning on working on those aspects during the summer, because it the transformation was one of the few things that she could make progress on without actively using magic.

After taking the end of year exams, and earning Outstandings in all of her courses, she prepared to board the train back to Cokeworth. While first year had gone will enough, she wasn’t any closer yet to figuring out why the bizarre feat of magic involving transporting her back 25 years in time had happened. However, she was adamant that she would make the best of her situation as she possibly could.


	14. Passing Time

Summer was droll. There was no other word for it. None of them - Severus, Lily, or herself - could do magic, seeing as they were all in households that didn’t practice magic, and therefore they were all subject to the Trace. Instead, Hermione attempted to get some reading done - she may have lifted a couple books from the Hogwarts library - and practice her wandless magic. The trace only picked up magic from a wand, thus the reason Hermione wanted to learn at least some basic wandless magic, but unfortunately she was having trouble mastering the art.

None of them had access to  _ The Daily Prophet,  _ which left Hermione feeling consistently isolated. When she mentioned it, Severus and Lily were unfazed, but neither of them paid much attention to the news when they were at Hogwarts. Instead, Hermione had to rely during these summer months on news through friends - mostly Lily’s friends, seeing as Hermione still was not close with her roommates - to get the smallest bits about what was happening in the Wizarding World. 

Thankfully, Hermione and Lily shared their owl Toffee, whom Severus also occasionally borrowed. Lily wrote incessantly to her Gryffindor roommates. They were a good enough sort, Hermione supposed, even if they weren’t at all the type of people she would choose to spend time around. Lily’s roommates were Marlene McKinnon, Mary Macdonald, and Alice Brown. In some ways, the girls  resembled Lavender and Parvati - they were prone to gossip. All of the Gryffindor roommates, Lily included, loved to gossip. However, the gossip was usually frivolous instead of mean-spirited. In fact, Lily’s insider scoop on many issues around Hogwarts had the potential to be very helpful when it came to Hermione trying to succeed as a Slytherin. 

Slytherins, as a general rule, did  _ not  _ gossip. Not in groups of more than two, anyway. Personal information about others was jealously hoarded, and valued almost as though it was a type of currency. Hermione, however, was typically outside of the loop compared to her Slytherin housemates. It had occasionally proven minorly inconvenient, but she wasn’t a big political player in Slytherin yet, having just finished her first year. She knew, with an unrecognized surname in a house where social standing and reputation were everything, there was a long way to go before becoming a major player in Slytherin. So far she was satisfied with what she’d accomplished, considering she’d only been living in this old timeline for under two years.

To Hermione’s knowledge though, she was the only Slytherin with a family member in Gryffindor. This gave her a slight advantage over her housemates. Lily occasionally passed on interesting information relevant to Gryffindor, details that Hermione knew most Slytherins would not have access to. The sisters didn’t talk to each other often, and Lily had yet to innocently let slip any useful gems of information, but the possibility was there.

This year, when the three neighbors turned classmates went to Diagon Alley a week before Hogwarts was to start, the almost teenagers were left to their own devices. Eileen Snape had steadily become less and less involved with her family, and the Evans were loathe to enter the Magical World, still struggling with balancing their love for their daughters against their religious faith. So instead, Hermione, Severus, and Lily took multiple buses to get to London, and then another two to get to the Leaky Cauldron. Privately, Hermione decided the longer, indirect commute was better than the terror of the Knight Bus. 

All class textbooks had remained the same, with one exception (a new Potions text, since the old one was outdated), so the trip was mostly to collect supplies. Thinking of Potions reminded Hermione about Professor Slughorn, who usually taught a combination of Fifth and Sixth year Potions. Hermione remembered that Slughorn wasn’t exactly a blood purist - but he did care about connections, and at the moment, she had none. She contemplated how she planned on attracting his attention; raw academic talent was certainly an option, although not, she felt, a very creative one.

Earlier in the summer, Hermione had carefully gone through and budgeted the Galleons she’d made from tutoring. Although not much, it covered her biggest expenses: some new robes and a wand sheath, with some left over to spend on books. By far, books were the largest portion of her budget - not just Magical books - on the way to Diagon Alley, they had stopped in at a Muggle shop and she’d bought some science texts, including an anatomy and physiology text as well as  _ The Art of War.  _

In Diagon Alley, as they passed a luggage store, silently she cursed her lack of foresight - she’d gotten so involved in outside projects at the end of first year that she had completely forgotten to charm her trunk larger. It seemed that would have to wait until she got back to Hogwarts.

But it was in Madam Malkins where she got the biggest conundrum she’d received since the first morning she woke up in 1970. Hermione, Severus, and Lily were all being fitted for robes when a slender girl with platinum blonde hair walked in. Hermione’s initial thought was that the girl looked like a better-kept version of Luna, and Hermione wondered if this girl was somehow related to Pandora Ollivander, since both Pandora and the new girl had the same shade of hair so blond it was almost white.

The girl introduced herself to the shop assistant as Diana Malfoy, and the last name immediately caught Hermione’s attention. She ransacked her brain for knowledge of pureblood genealogy, something she realized she did not know as much on the subject as she should, given her Slytherin House affiliation. What Hermione was particularly trying to recall was the last time the Malfoys had produced a daughter, and she did not remember any born and recognized in the last 200 years. The family had been famous for only having one son, generation after generation, which made it somewhat miraculous the Malfoy line still existed. Hermione’s memory came up blank, but she reasoned that hadly meant anything, given her general lack of knowledge on Pureblood family trees. 

She caught the female Malfoy’s eye, and as they made eye contact, Malfoy’s eyes widened ever so slightly. It was almost imperceptible, and Hermione certainly wouldn’t have caught it when she was younger. “Hermione Evans,” she said pleasantly, while maintaining steady eye contact. Hermione could tell that while Malfoy was attempting to stay aloof, the blonde was surprised by the introduction. Malfoy suddenly had a large coughing fit, and Hermione looked on, perplexed by Malfoy’s reaction.

Soon, Malfoy recovered. “Diana Malfoy. Call me Diana, please.” This was...unusual. Hermione was quite certain Diana would have been raised in typical Malfoy fashion, and therefore would be resistant to allowing strangers’ use of a given name. 

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione opted to continue the conversation rather than investigate this anomaly, and replied, “Then it’s Hermione. Are you at Hogwarts already?”

Diana shook her head. “No. First year. What house are you in?” She asked curiously, as she moved to one of the shop stools to be measured for robes.

“Slytherin.” Looking at her companions, Hermione introduced them. “This is Severus Snape, a fellow Slytherin, and my adopted sister, Lily Evans.” At times, Hermione felt guilty about emphasizing the ‘adopted’ bit, particularly because Lily never included that clause in any sentence about Hermione. But that specification made her life in Slytherin somewhat easier, and to be honest...she did not  connect to Lily as a sister. After all, she only had two years of memory when it came to living in this timeline. And while she saw Lily semi-frequently at school, being in constantly feuding houses made it difficult to maintain a relationship. Severus, she knew, made more of an effort to keep a consistent relationship with Lily - but Severus also had an extreme unrequited crush on Lily, albeit unacknowledged by both.

Everyone nodded to each other, Diana looking rather like she had a sour lemon drop in her mouth. “I’ll probably be in Slytherin,” the younger girl said with a haughty shrug. “Malfoys always are.”

Hermione resisted the urge to ask the terribly rude question running through her head - why was there a girl Malfoy, one whom she did not remember the existence of in the 90s? one who maybe hadn’t existed in the 90s. But she could not reason on the quandry for long, as all too soon Hermione, Severus, and Lily’s robes were finished while Diana stayed behind to finish having her measurements taken.. 

As they exited the shop, Severus turned to Hermione. “She seemed odd. Almost like she knew you. Have you met before?” Although Hermione was positive she hadn’t met Diana before, Hermione agreed that Diana had seemed odd and perhaps out of sorts.

Shaking her head decisively, Hermione answered, “No. At least, I don’t think so. I can’t think of where I possibly would have met her.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Malfoys can be a piece of work though, that’s for sure.” She thought about all the times she had wanted to strangle Draco Malfoy, and the one time she had punched him. Not to mention Lucius, who had been far more sinister as opposed his son. Draco, meanwhile, was simply a git.

“What was that?” Lily was closer and had evidently caught part of that last bit.

“Oh, sorry. Nothing, Just talking to myself,” Hermione responded, knowing that Lily would trust her response at face value.

The amount of times Hermione lied to Lily and Severus since her arrival in the 1970s made her feel mildly guilty. They were usually small lies, yes, but the amount of those lies added up over time. Then again, there was the fact  she still sometimes felt as though  _ her entire life here was a lie _ . Hermione hoped this year she could somehow find a way to get the Sorting Hat to talk to her, see if it knew anything about its future self’s plans. She wanted to know if this pretense she was living had  _ any  _ purpose.

Hermione wistfully eyed the entrance to Knockturn Alley. She wanted a second wand, something that was untraceable. There were also some  _ highly questionable  _ potion ingredients she had on her list, but she simply didn’t have the funds, or the ability to sneak away from their trio without raising unwanted questions.

The three finished up their shopping and prepared to board the first of many buses back to Cokeworth. With only one week remaining of summer, Hermione was left with the vague sense that she hadn’t been half as productive as she should have been. The only tangible reward she had to show from over two months of summer break was her assigned summer homework, which had been a breeze to do. 

Yes, Hermione had read, including a book from the Restricted Section expanding over Healing magic. It had been in the Restricted Section because many of the spells had complex emotional components, and someone without the proper control of their emotions (like most teenagers) could do devastating harm with those spells. But with no way to practice the magic, the theoretical knowledge had not felt fully useful. In some ways the summer had felt like a waste.

In the war, Hermione had frequently wished she knew Healing spells - her knowledge in her first timeline unfortunately started and stopped at  _ Episkey.  _ Healing was an extraordinarily intricate and fine art - just as much so as Muggle medicine, but instead of being as focused on underlying biology and chemistry, Magical Healing was heavily influenced by the caster’s emotional state. Just like Muggle medicine, there were varying specialties in Healing, although with the Wizarding World being substantially smaller than the Muggle population, sometimes Healers had multiple specialties. Thus why she had lifted the primer on Healing Magic, which she’d have to sneak back into the Restricted Section. Not for the first time, she wished she had James’ invisibility cloak. 

The other book Hermione judiciously relocated was an advanced Ancient Runes book. Her goal was to start designing the runic magic for the Map of Hogwarts she planned to work on throughout the year. The book was an advanced one, although not one that belonged in the Restricted Section. It introduced some warding techniques, which Hermione had looked at, but the main part she was interested in detailed how to tie in objects to wards. Usage of that knowledge would allow her to incorporate Hogwarts’ wards into the Map’s layout, including the display of names and the locations for individual people. 

And so it was, on August 31, Hermione got on the train with a to-do list as long as her arm, hoping that the next year she could cross at least half of it off, if not more.  _ At least,  _ she reasoned,  _ she did not have Harry’s misadventures to distract her in this timeline. _


	15. Miscalculations

On the train ride to Hogwarts, Hermione made a point of staying away from James and Sirius - the three of them already had two confrontations on the Hogwarts Express, and she didn’t want to make it a pattern. Especially because the boys had all summer to practice spells, some of which might have been jinxes designed for her, Hermione felt she had a right to be wary. In contrast, since Hermione lived in a Muggle household, she had not had any such opportunity to practice spells, and therefore felt out of practice with her reactions.

After the Sorting, which was mostly unremarkable- the only incoming first year she’d had any exposure to was Diana Malfoy, predictably sorted into Slytherin - she returned to the Slytherin Common Room, where she was quickly accosted by said Malfoy. 

“Hermione, was it?” Diana asked, sounding quite confident in this as she pulled Hermione into a small alcove. The blonde also had her wand out and was casting what Hermione readily enough recognised as a Muffliato - a spell which hadn’t been invented yet - and a notice-me-not. Hermione raised an eyebrow - she had thought her first encounter with the other girl had been odd, but now something was decidedly off and she felt her figurative hackles rising.

“Um, yeah,” Hermione answered, feeling thoroughly caught off guard. She subtly flicked her wand out of the sheath strapped to her arm, a move she’d spent the last week practicing at home since purchasing the sheath.

Malfoy noticed Hermonie’s reaction and peered up at her, being several inches shorter. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to do this subtlety, although clearly your reaction shows that my efforts to be blasé would be without success, so here goes. Does the name ‘Granger’ mean anything to you?” 

Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat, and she leveled her wand at the younger girl. “What do you know?” Her mind was racing. Could someone have legilimized the information from her brain? Hermione was genuinely stumped as to how she had messed up.

Diana held her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. “It’s Draco. Or, well, I used to be. Now I’ve got...this,” she said as she made a gesture down her torso.

Feeling her voice crack in disbelief, Hermione bit out, “You’re telling me you’re Draco Malfoy from...my time? Except you’re a girl?” She scoffed. “That makes zero sense.”

“None of this makes any sense, you realise, right?” 

Diana/Draco had a point there. “Alright. Well. First things first, I guess I need to know what alliances you carry,” Hermione demanded. The logistics could wait, but right now she needed to figure out exactly how bad this situation was. 

The pureblood sniffed. “Not the Dark Lord’s. Other than that, I’m not entirely certain. But I had enough crazy last time around. I’m definitely not going to be becoming a Death Eater - it helps, I guess, that they don’t typically take girls.” As Draco--er Diana  finished speaking, her nose crinkled at the word “girl”, as if in slight disbelief she had ended up in this body. “Unless you’re my aunt, I suppose,” Diana continued. Her tone attempted to portray this last statement with insouciance, but the shudder that ran through her body belied otherwise.

Hermione could hear the fear in Diana’s tone as she talked about Voldemort - it was clear that the first timeline hadn’t been a walk in the park for either of them. Shaking her head in bewilderment, Hermione replied, “So, you’re. A girl now. Right, sure. How long have you been...here?”  


“By ‘here’ I assume you mean 1972? About three months ago, I landed here on my 11th birthday. Which is in June, for the record.” Diana’s inflection seemed to indicate that Hermione already should have known Diana’s birthday.

“I got here on my 11th birthday, too. Except that was almost two years ago. What the  _ ever loving fuck.”  _ Hermione, on her part, was more confused than ever. This was the year she had planned on getting answers to this madness, not getting even more questions.

“Something happened,” Diana/Draco observed in an all-knowing tone.

“ _ No fucking shit,  _ something happened. You wouldn’t happen to know what, would you?” Hermione could feel faint crackling at the tips of her hair, something that happened very rarely when she was extraordinarily agitated. Her tone of voice was bordering on shrill - it was a good thing they had privacy charms up - but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Calm down, would you? Well, after you got resorted, you disappeared. Into thin air. It was all over the school - my resorting was only fifteen minutes after yours, so I was right outside, but they decided it was some bizarre Apparition event, that the wards had gone funky - nevermind you can’t Apparate inside the castle - so they kept going on with the resorting.”

“And then I went, and had the weirdest conversation with the Sorting Hat, and next thing I know I’m waking up at 5am on my birthday, except in 1972, seven years younger, and a girl. Got sent to St. Mungos for a bit - my family thought I’d hit my head or been Confounded with how funny I was acting.” 

“Right. Sure,” Hermione found herself repeating in stunned disbelief even as some part of her inwardly was thrilled at someone else knowing you couldn’t apparate in Hogwarts. “Um, do you want to be called Diana, or Draco? In private, anyway.”

Diana/Draco wrinkled her nose. “Diana is fine. I don’t mind, really. I was never super attached to being a guy, I guess. And if you get used to calling me Draco, eventually you’re bound to slip. Diana was what my parents were going to name me if I were a girl, the first time. So I guess it’s poetic.”

While there were spells to determine the gender of a fetus, it was considered uncouth in many of the Pureblood circles. Apparently, centuries ago, there was a habit of using the spell and then performing an abortion if the baby was a girl. 

There was a huge cultural backlash, and now many of the more old-fashioned wizards found it faintly distasteful. In more modern Wizarding culture, it wasn’t considered as big a deal, but it was still a rare practice.

“Poetic isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe this entire predicament,” Hermione observed wryly. “She/her pronouns?”  


“Wha- oh, sure. Female pronouns are probably best,” Diana said distractedly.

Hermione decided now was not the right time for a lecture on proper pronoun terminology and why it wasn’t right to use terms such as ‘female’ and ‘male’ when talking about pronouns, so she held her tongue.

“Speaking of ‘this predicament’” - here there were air quotes, a Muggle habit Hermione had no idea where Diana would have picked up on it from  - “I have one burning question. More than one, actually. How on earth is  _ Hermione-bloody-Granger  _ a Slytherin?”

Hermione sniffed. “One, don’t call me Granger. Same thing, if you get in the habit something’s guaranteed to come out wrong sometime in unfortunate company. Two, I’m probably almost as confused as you are. The Hat sorted me into Slytherin in 1998 - then I vanished, evidently - but I didn’t get good reasoning as to why. The Hat was very obfuscating. We had a bit of a longer conversation, this time around - it discussed that my sorting had the potential for quite a lot of impact, and I thought maybe I could have the best impact here, so it put me in Slytherin.”

Diana made a  _ hmm _ ing noise. “The Hat didn’t know what to do with me either time around. Said I probably would fit best in Ravenclaw, the second time around, so that’s where I ended up. But then just now it seemed to think that putting a Malfoy somewhere other than Slytherin could lead to a bad end, so...here I am.”  


“You know, we’re probably the only people in the history of Hogwarts to have been sorted three times.” Hermione hoped so, at any point. 

“Almost certainly. Unless someone else got sent back with us - noticed anything funny there?”

“No. But I have a different last name, and you’re a girl, so I’m not entirely confident I’d have noticed.” Honestly, Hermione wasn’t certain why Diana had chosen to reveal herself as Draco - it seemed as though a Slytherin would usually prefer to keep their cards close to their chest. That Diana hadn’t made Hermione question the other girl’s motives.  


“That’s true,” Diana accepted with a nod. “I mean, I recognised you straight away - same looks, and your name is Hermione, which is fairly distinctive.”

“We’ll just have to keep an eye out, then,” Hermione responded, surprising herself with the use of “we,” as though they were now a team. 

“Obviously. And then, you’re an Evans? As in, Lily Potter neé Evans?”

Hermione winced. “Yes. I’m adopted, evidently. So I’ve been telling everyone that she’s a Muggleborn, but I’m a Half-Blood, that my mother was a Witch. But I don’t have anything to back that up, so that’ll be a project at some point.”

“Project indeed. We’ll have to work on that - since you’re in Slytherin it might be critically important someday. I now have the delightful experience of my father being my sibling five years older than me - now that’s bizarre, let me tell you.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Hermione chuckled. “What’s he like?”

“An arse, but I’m sure you could’ve guessed that. He ignores me, for the first part, and he’s a seventh year so focusing on his NEWTs. And apparently chasing skirts, from what I’ve seen,” Diana said as she wrinkled her nose. 

Hermione shuddered. “Oh god. Can’t say I’d noticed, but we’re not exactly chums.”

Diana made a noise in the back of her throat of distaste. “You and my father being chums is an....incredibly horrifying thought.”

“Best stop saying things like that, too,” Hermione pointed out. 

“Yes, you’re right. You’ve been here...how long, without anyone suspecting anything?

“Two years, and miraculously, yes. I’ve been mostly flying under the radar. Part of me thinks I should start picking my grades up though, I might like to be a prefect.”

Diana eyed Hermione speculatively. “Hmm. Well, you have time. Know-it-all that you are, I doubt you’d have an issue with it.” To Hermione, the dig felt obligatory, without any actual bite to it.

Hermione nodded, still feeling extraordinarily out of sorts. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined there were other people who had also time traveled. Even more surprising was that her companion was a Draco Malfoy in a girl’s body. It was enough to make her wonder if she had well and truly ended up insane, after everything that happened. Hermione attempted to draw herself up and back together, saying, “Well, was there anything else to talk about? Because if we’re not on the same side, I don’t see a reason why we still are here, quite possibly drawing someone’s attention.”

“No. Nothing else we need to talk about. I suppose I’ll let you know, about that whole sides thing.”

“You do that,” Hermione said flatly, not sure that she would ever trust a Malfoy but now in the unfortunate position of having been forced into mutual secret-keeping with one. 

“Hermione?” The word sounded uncertain coming out of Diana’s mouth, and her demeanor, which had been relatively self-assured, shifted into a nervous affect. “You can - you can let me know if you need anything, alright? We’re both keeping major secrets from everyone else here, and, it’s just, maybe we should be able to rely on each other. For what you consider it to be worth, you have my word I won’t betray you.”

An idea suddenly flashed into Hermione’s mind. “I’ll try to remember that. Actually though, do you know Occlumency? Or Legilimency? I’ve brushed up on some Occlumency techniques but it’s hard to learn solo…” she trailed off, uncertain. 

Malfoy brightened, an grin on her face that Hermione wasn’t sure she’d ever seen from Draco. “I’m quite good at Occlumency, and proficient at Legilimency to an extent. Bellatrix taught me, though as I imagine you can guess, she wasn’t a good - “ her words came to an abrupt halt, seeing the expression on Hermione’s face which could be mildly described as somewhere between ‘agony’ and ‘panic’.

Taking a deep breath to master herself, Hermione smiled tightly. “Go on?”

“Ah, yes, well, sorry. I can give you some pointers, at least.” Diana sounded uncertain, and her left eyebrow twitched noticeably.

“That would be wonderful. Now, I’d quite like to go to bed, so long as you have no further matters we must discuss tonight.” Hermione’s patience had been worn thin today, and she’d been tired to start with, but after that reminder about Bellatrix - someone whom she did her utmost not to think about - she was positively fried and the ability to be perfectly tactful was eluding her. 

Diana eyed her speculatively before nodding and cancelling the secrecy spells on the alcove they have been occupying. The two girls nodded, somewhat tersely, at each other before stepping out into the crowded Common Room. 

If Hermione had been overwhelmed to start with, she was doubly so now. Diana being in the past with her made life and mission significantly more complicated. When Hermione went to bed that night, she dreamt of the look on Draco Malfoy’s face as he watched her being tortured in Malfoy Manor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm sad to say I'll be taking a hiatus for the month of April - I've got too much going on in my life, and this is the last chapter I have, so just need to step back for a bit. Not that I'm counting, but I've only got 40 days until my last assignment of undergrad is due. I'll see you all in a month :)


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